Things Once Lost
by humblequill
Summary: Set immediately after the events of Skin Deep. Mr Gold seeks the aid of new acquaintances to solve the mystery of the chipped cup.
1. It bursts to hold this china

I walk from the jail cell Monday morning, holding the chipped cup in both hands. How Regina knew, I cannot begin to guess. But the cup must be placed more securely, in case there is a next time.

Sheriff Swan tells me the father is having trouble breathing through his broken face. If I have done any good in these few days, it has been to give him a dose of the pain he gave me.

No.

The pain he gave her. The torture he imposed. The agony. The shame.

If he had only let her go, thrown her to the great wide world and left her at its mercy, there would have been time to act. I could have changed things, set them right.

She told me my heart would be empty.

It is not so.

It bursts to hold this china in my fingers. There is so much inside. Fury. Regret. Despair...

And yet.

The cup is brimming with magic. I have felt it, even in this mortal cocoon to which the Queen has us bound. It didn't feel this way before, on its plinth at the castle.

There it was empty, and so was I.

Here, things are different. The cup is the key. All I have to do is find the lock.

From the station I turn away from home, from the empty castle dressed as a townhouse. Instead I walk the streets, searching for the boy. The fact that he knows to fear me is enough. He is the Queen's own private curse, and he knows both she and I to be evil. Such rare instinct does not happen by chance.

It is afternoon before I find him, skipping school at the woodland playground. He sits alone, clutching a tender parchment page. Henry is crying. The power of the Dark One calls to me from a remembered world. Pain is weakness. The time to strike is nigh.

-::-

"Henry?"

I wipe off the tears with my sleeve, but I know he's already seen them. Just when you think you have a moment alone. Red eyes shining, I hang my head.

"Shouldn't you be at school?"

Again with the lectures. I could do without another one today.

"I guess so." I manage a trembling squeak of a reply. Pathetic. But to the point.

"Oh," he says, and his voice is different somehow. "You're upset."

And now I look at him. Mr Gold looks tired, more tired than I've ever seen him. I guess I never really thought about how old he was before, but now he looks old and sad. And kind of human.

"I'll not tell Mary Margaret that I saw you." He starts to get up. "I'm sorry I disturbed you."

As he moves, I see the cup in his hands. Thin china, the chip in one side.

"What is that Mr Gold?"

I can't help myself. It looks so much like a drawing from the book. I close my eyes for half a moment, and see it on the page. The chipped cup. The empty heart. A beautiful lady. A vicious beast.

"This?" He asks, standing crooked, holding the cup. "It's just a-"

A moment passes. He looks as though he might just leave.

"It doesn't matter." Finally, a reply. "Why do you ask?"

Henry sighs, feels the tears from before coming back. "You wouldn't believe me. Nobody does." Emma runs across my mind, that stern look. I can feel the pink in my cheeks, and now I wish Gold had left, that I hadn't said a word.

"Try me."

He sits back down.

Everything seems to have gotten a little weirder. It ought to be Emma sitting here, asking for the story. Not him. But his face, that worried old face makes me feel strange. Like I should tell him. Like he might not think I'm crazy after all.

-::-

"I've seen that cup in a storybook, that's all."

"That would be quite some tale, the misadventures of a tiny chipped teacup..."

Henry laughs. I chance a glance at his tear stained face. I smile a small smile to him.

"No," he replies, as I had hoped, "it's part of a bigger story."

A pause there, as though he's working me out. I drop the smile a little, keeping my eyes on his. The boy looks away.

"Beauty and the Beast."

As I move to reply, a lump forms in my throat. What I want to say, what I need to say, is reluctant to come out. But if I'm going to see this through, find out what magic this cup holds in this mortal realm, I must go on.

"This belonged to a beauty."

The words are more choked than I'd like a ten-year-old to hear. But I stand by them, keeping my face drawn and sad. It isn't hard, once I start to see her dreamlike face creep into view.

"And she was almost mine."

I rise to my feet once more, this time to leave for real.

"Beauty and the Beast." I shake my head, give the boy that same small smile. "You might be onto something there."

-::-

Since Gold left this morning, I've been a little lost. My half-hour with Henry yesterday was a big plate of awkward, with a side of the poor use of the word 'delusional'. Classic mistake, just the kind I'm used to making. I know I've hurt him, but it's not like I can just walk over to Regina's and try to make it right.

A productive day of waiting for the phone to ring passes slowly. Until, at a quarter to three, the office doors burst open, and in runs a flushed-faced boy. My boy.

"Emma! Emma!"

He keels over, leaning on a chair to catch his breath. I reach him in seconds, a hand on his shoulder, not-so-secretly pleased that he's back on my side so soon.

"I found a way to make you believe me," he says, gasping.

"Yeah?"

I can't help my reservations, but the hope in his eyes would be a sore sight to miss right now. He breaks into a huge smile, wraps his arms around my waist. I want to laugh at his excitement, but I hold it back to just a smile.

"So, what's this great scheme of yours?"

He pulls away, beaming up at me, and takes a deep breath.

"We're going to fix Mr Gold."


	2. This is my silence I made it

**Not to audience: thank you all for reading Chapter One, you are awesome! Would love some feedback on Mr Gold's voice especially if anyone has time to review!**

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><p>I don't know why I didn't spot it sooner. Of course Mr Gold is the Beast!<p>

I don't remember sleeping last night, only thinking of the book, struggling to remember it all. The Beast was afflicted, deformed by a curse of great power. Belle, his beauty, came to work as a scullery maid. Time passed, they fell in love. But it all went wrong somehow. How did that part go?

I sigh loudly.

"What's with you?"

I jump, remembering I'm at the breakfast table with my so-called mom. She looks at me, black eyes narrowed. I look away. But then I remember the ending. The last words of the Queen. I look back to her, but now she's back on the pancakes, flipping them out onto my plate. She serves me, and I do something I've never done before.

"Thanks Mom."

It's kind of hard to explain what happens, but I know I've done the right thing. She sits down next to me with her own short stack, passes me the syrup. Everything is silence, but not the kind I'm scared of. This is my silence. I made it. And now I can use it for good.

"I don't feel like school today."

"Well that's a shocker."

She smiles at me. I can see the picture in my head, from the book. The smile of the liar, as she leaves the Beast, his heart in shreds. She has what he wants, and he is left broken, tortured forever by his curse.

I smile back.

"Can I come to work with you instead?"

I smile my hardest smile, the smile I save for Emma. It's hard when I have to look into her eyes, but I do it. For the greater good.

"I guess Sydney could watch you..."

"No. I want to, well, spend time with you."

Her eyes narrow again. "You know I'm not planning on going to the Sheriff's office today, so if that's what's on your mind..."

"No, it's not that. Emma said I should try harder with you. That you want to... Get to know me?"

I guess I'm clutching thin air now, but it feels like something Emma might have said a while ago. I don't really listen when people try to give me advice about my mother. Her eyes widen again. I fix the smile back on.

"One day off."

I could jump into the air. It actually worked.

"But you stick by me all day, you got that? No wandering privileges. None."

-::-

I guess it makes sense how Henry's mind has matched Gold to the Beast. The guy's rich and alone in a big house. No wife, no family. Everyone in this town is afraid of him, but nobody seems to be able to say why. I have to admit there is something beyond that fearful exterior, a fleck of humanity, something you almost want to trust just the once.

I wish Henry had picked someone else to fix on this week. After seeing the bludgeoning that the flower guy got, Gold's the last person I want to encounter. Still, time with Henry is in short supply these days. And keeping an eye on Gold is probably the Sheriffly thing to do.

So here I stand, in front of the musty brown door to his treasure trove. I grit my teeth, see Henry's hopeful smile in my head, and open the door. It creaks loudly. It almost looks like he was waiting for me, the way he stands behind the counter, watches me enter.

"Finally decided to come in, Sheriff Swan? You've been standing there almost ten minutes. I was beginning to worry."

His lack of sincerity comforts me. It looks like we're back on old terms.

"Pause for thought."

I approach the desk.

"So what can I do for you?"

"Oh, you know how it is being Sheriff. Just doing my rounds. How are you, Mr Gold? Beaten anyone up with a blunt instrument lately? That sort of thing."

"Ah." Gold looks away for a moment. "I assure you, my fit of rage has passed."

"Good to hear."

He looks up again, a little smile creeping in at the corners of that thin mouth. I find myself looking at his eyes. That little something's there again right now, that glimmer of something beyond the ruthless raconteur here with me.

"There was something else."

He nods. "Go ahead."

"You know how Henry... He gets these fixes on people. Follows them around?"

"Can't imagine where he gets that from."

The wit is quick, it throws me off. I glower at him, stumble over the next sentence.

"He, uh, it's not like I don't have reasons to, well."

I pause again, huff out a breath. Gold's eyes shine. It's almost like he's laughing, somewhere in there, but it's not on his face.

"If he comes here... Just in case he comes here..."

Another pause. I suddenly realise that it sounds like I'm asking for another favour. Not a good move.

"Look, he might want to tell you a story."

"A story? I don't follow."

"I know. It's just a thing that he likes to do. Humour him. Hear him out."

"Sounds simple enough."

I turn to leave. Dammit. It still sounds like another favour. As I reach the door I turn again. He still hasn't moved, like he knew there was more. Creepy.

"He's in a fragile place right now... mentally. I just need people to be nice to him for a while."

Gold smiles politely. "I can do that."

-::-

A day of bonding with 'mommy' hasn't helped the way I thought it would. Six hours in and we're leaving work early to go home. My face is starting to hurt from all the smiling. I'm tired of pretending to be interested in the city budget, or in Sydney's pie charts and the new portrait of the Mayor in the papers. For once, I almost wish I'd stayed in school today.

But then the car stops, and we're not at home. We're at the hospital.

"Mommy has to visit a special patient. It won't take long."

She picks up a red rose from the back seat.

"Come on. You can wait in the lobby. There's a candy machine."

So we make it to the lobby. I get a fistful of change, making for the machines. A Hershey's bar beckons, the kind with a nutty centre. I look back to her, still smiling as she heads off down the corridor, but there's something about the way she looks back at me, then all around her. It's weird.

So I give it a few minutes, eating my chocolate. The lobby's fairly quiet, just an orderly or two. So I cough. And I splutter.

And I choke.

Not really, but you get the idea. I choke a lot.

A huge orderly rushes over, slaps my back hard. It hurts, and I break into sobs. But that's ok, it all helps the plan. I choke once more. Another massive slap, and I cough up a ball of chocolate and nuts that's been sitting under my tongue.

"You all right Henry?"

"Mom!" I cry out. "Can you get my mom?"

The orderly finds a phone. He calls around, listens, keeps looking at me. It's kind of hard to keep crying when you're heart's not in it, but I try my best. I hang my head, faking the last few sobs. I hear the phone go down.

"I can't get to your mom. She's downstairs, in the restricted ward. Private phone line to that desk. But I'll sit with you 'til she's done. She won't be long. Nobody ever stays down there very long."

He sits beside me, pats my sore back. I smile under my arms, carry on faking the tears.

Finally, a clue.


	3. 3:30 am and I'm still rifling

I really don't know how I end up doing these things. 3:30 a.m. and I'm still rifling through hospital records. What's Henry got over me that I can't say no to the kid? One smile, one garbled message on the office answer phone, and here I am, knee-deep in paper again. Maybe I'm a little crazy too.

"Are you sure this is everything?"

The solemn director of the hospital gives a nod. Superpower time. He's a serious liar.

"This is every single patient in this building right now."

"Every section, every ward," he assures, in a very suit-and-tie kind of way.

"And the restricted ward, that's here too?"

The director's face falls just a little. "Well sheriff, you see..."

"So these aren't all the patients?"

Getting somewhere at last. He squirms on his feet, looking from wall to wall. I give him time and an expectant look. Time is crucial to bail-bonds-people. Time is the difference between backing them into a corner and having them pour our their hearts.

"It's only one patient. And the file is, well, restricted."

I fold my arms Sheriff-style, like Graham used to. Give him another look.

"I just need a name."

More pauses, more time. It's not like I'm getting a good night's sleep tonight anyway.

"Caroline French."

-::-

"Spooky co-incidence huh?"

Emma really is the best mom a kid could hope for. She looks wrecked, totally wrecked. But she has great news. I push myself up on the wall of the schoolyard a little more.

"Watch it Tarzan, you're gonna fall."

"But it's amazing," I say. "Don't you think so?"

"That your special patient could be related to the guy Gold just whaled on? Sure. But then you have a weird instinct for these things, don't ya?"

I'm not sure if instinct is the right word, it makes me wonder whether she's denying that it all fits, but the news is too good to start wondering things like that. I push up on the wall more, starting to get over it.

"Now hang on there buster... What exactly are you doing?"

I can't believe she has to ask.

"Going to see Mr Gold, of course."

Emma gets in my way so I can't get down onto her side. "Oh no," she says. "You stay in here today, no quality time with the violent loner for you."

I can't believe she's doing this to me. Why hand me such amazing news and then not let me share it? A voice from the playground calls, and I can feel my insides shrinking.

"Henry! Get down from there, you'll hurt yourself!"

Don't get me wrong: I like Mary-Margaret, but her timing is just too perfect. Emma hears her too.

"Gotta go kid. Stay put for now, ok?"

The recess bell rings. I jump back into the schoolyard, head rushing with all sorts of new ideas.

-::-

I'm almost asleep on the desk of the shop when the door flies open. Images of the cup kept me awake last night. I choose to think it's a good sign, maybe the magic of the cup is finally leading me somewhere. I find I might be right, as Henry approaches the desk.

"Is there somewhere less obvious we can talk? I've got great news!"

He beams at me, like he wants to show me a new action figure. For a moment I see my own boy, at Henry's age. I push the memory aside.

"Just a moment."

With the shop on early close, I take Henry to the back room, where some of my more expensive oddities are stored. He fixes himself on an old oak chair whilst I stand, leaning on the door in case of unwanted guests.

"So?"

He smiles, takes in a breath. "The story of Beauty and the Beast, the real story, do you know how it ends?"

I swallow the lump in my throat.

"She dies. Belle dies."

He shakes his head. Though I had suspected he might know more than I, it still surprises me when he speaks again.

"Not in my book."

He pulls a schoolbook from his backpack, flipping to the back pages.

"I wrote down what I could remember in Geometry today. Belle is punished by her father for her love for the Beast, and sent to a tower to suffer eternally."

I feel a little sick at the thought.

"The Beast thinks she's dead, but really the Queen still holds her captive in the tower."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. The boy notices. He smiles. Perhaps this is the time.

"Henry," I begin, approaching the boy. I perch on the edge of a crate beside his chair. He eyes the cane in my hand. I toss it aside. "Am I right in thinking that you still hold the belief that the people of Storybrooke come from... somewhere else?"

The smile drops a little on his face. "I do, because it's true. You just don't remember."

This is the time. I have to tell him if I'm going to get any more out of him. Besides, who will believe him, even if he knows a part of the truth about me? I put on my best expression of seriousness. A trait I've been practising since my arrival in this realm.

"What if I told you... that I remember everything?"

Henry's eyes glitter with pure hope. He waits, doting on my words. But they aren't quite enough to seal this particular deal. I smile a little.

"You were right about David and Mary-Margaret."

He jumps in his seat, mouth open in a smile.

"I didn't really know them, you understand. It was a big kingdom. But everyone knew of the romance of Snow White and the Prince."

"And Archie? Doctor Hopper?" He says, eyes narrowed. I could almost laugh. He's actually testing me.

"Jiminy Cricket."

He gasps, then laughs. "This is amazing." There is a long pause. "What about Emma?"

I wonder how far his little storybook goes into that affair. I shouldn't like to give away something 'the Beast' ought not to know.

"She wasn't there. At least, I don't remember her."

"Then it's true." He smiles, as if all has been decided. "You are the Beast."

I simply nod. It's true enough for my purposes here. "So how about it Henry? If Belle, as you say, is not dead, where is the Queen keeping her?"

He jiggles in the old chair like he's bursting to say. "I asked Emma to track her down, you're not going to believe it!"

His excitement is contagious. If he's right, if he can tell me where she is, then everything is about to change.

"I don't believe it either," says a voice outside the door. It opens, and she stands there, all golden hair and self-righteousness. "Especially since I told you not to come here less than two hours ago."

And he's gone. By the shoulder, guided out before I have a moment to protest. My call to the Sheriff is lost amidst the lecture she's giving the boy. I watch the one scrap of information I desperately need being dragged out down the street.

Still, the wheels are in motion. I suppose I'll just have to make it a little easier for Henry to run into me again, and hope that whatever he knows is ready and waiting for me when I do.

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><p><strong>reviews are 3 if you have the time to spare :)<strong>


	4. I knew I wasn't crazy

"I don't understand. I thought you were helping me again."

He sniffles along next to me. I have to handle this carefully.

"Hey, I pulled an all-nighter with the oh-so-cheerful hospital director to get you that name. I am helping you."

"So what was that?"

I sigh. It's charming, really, that he has this black and white view of everybody, but it works on your nerves after a while.

"That," I begin with some force, "was you alone with a creepy guy who's just been in my cell for severely injuring a florist with his walking cane. Not a good plan. Not a safe plan."

We reach his driveway, and I hang back a little at the sight of the house.

"Go on in. We'll talk about using our intel safely soon."

-::-

I nod, heading in with a heavy heart. I couldn't tell her what Mr Gold told me, of course, not when she's in that Sherrify kind of mood. But I'll tell her when I see her next, then maybe she'll want to help, once she knows that everything I've told her so far is true.

I knew I wasn't crazy. It's hard, when nobody believes you, to keep believing that you're right. But I knew.

I take a quick walk around. The house is empty. She must be late at the office. Now would be a good time to get back out there, maybe Mr Gold hasn't closed up yet.

I reach for the door, but I stop. Emma. I'll bet she's watching somewhere nearby. She knows me too well.

"Henry."

A voice upstairs. I jump out of my skin. A man's voice.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I just didn't want you to go out again."

A smart figure begins to limp down the stairs. My heart beats through my body, I can hear it in my ears.

"I couldn't wait. I need you to help me now."

Mr Gold comes to the bottom step, leans on the rail. He looks different in the dim light of the hall, and he's smiling. I think I like this side of the Beast much better, sort of makes the story make sense now. How a Beauty could find the good in him.

"How did you get in here?"

The smile widens. "Henry," he says, and now he sounds like a teacher, "I resisted the overpowering memory-changing curse of the Wicked Queen. Getting into a locked house is considerably easier, I promise you."

It doesn't really answer my question, but it's a pretty cool response. I think I'll let it go. Maybe I ask him again later. If he knows how to get in, he could help me sneak out.

"One more question," I say. It dawns on me that I have a little bit of power here. And Mr Gold has a lot of memories that could help Operation Cobra.

-::-

He's a clever one. Knows how to spot a deal in the making. I rather like that about him.

"Of course."

"You'll tell me about the others, won't you? Who they are." Henry smiles at me. "I want to help them all. Like I'm helping you."

"I'll tell you what I can," I reply. It's not a wholly untrue statement.

Moments later we sit together in his little room, keep the door ajar for any sound of Her Majesty's return.

"Okay," he begins, and I find I'm not as thrilled to hear this as I thought I'd be. Whatever this news is, whatever her punishment in this realm, it's still down to me. Had she been with me when the curse struck, she would have been spared.

"So the Mayor visits a special patient, at the hospital, in a restricted ward that nobody else seems to have access to."

"I see. And what makes you think the patient is Belle?"

"It makes sense doesn't it? Only the Queen knows where she is, she's been locked away there for as long as Storybrooke's been around. She's either Belle or Sleeping Beauty, but I'm assuming she's awake, so..."

It's possible that I've broken into Regina's house for a wild goose chase. This patient could be any one of the worthless souls that the Queen has collected on her path to destruction. Who's to say it's her?

"Emma got her name for me, last night."

"Let's have it then."

"Caroline French. She's gotta be related to the florist."

Had I been holding the cane, I'd have dropped it right about now. Every muscle seems limp, like every molecule of energy is racing to my chest. An empty heart indeed. If only she could see it now. Maybe she will.

"Then it is her."

I don't recognise my voice. It sounds broken, distant. Henry's saying something else, but it's lost on me. My Belle is imprisoned, alone in a new world. But it's not too late to save her. She may be locked away, but at least she's here. It's a start. The best start I could have hoped for.

"Mr Gold, are you listening?"

"I'm sorry," I say after what seems like an age. The room comes back into focus, and I see him tugging my elbow. "No, I'm afraid I was a little... shocked, shall we say?"

"I said, how do you think we can get her out of that ward? The orderly said it was downstairs, but we were on the first floor, so it must be underground. Do we break in? Can you do that? Like you got in here?"

"No. If I break her out, your mummy'll come looking for me. We have to do things more... subtly."

The door creaks downstairs. I can her Regina's keys jangling.

"Henry!" She calls. "I brought a take-out, sorry I'm late."

Henry looks to me for guidance, his face a picture of panic.

"Answer her, and go down." I whisper. "I'll be gone before you get back."

He nods silently, makes for the door.

"Coming Mom!"

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><p><strong>Reviews are 3 as always. Thank you for reading thus far, and thanks for the constructive reviewing. I hope Gold was little deeper and more edgy for you here :)<strong>


	5. What the hell did you tell Henry

"When I said 'humour him', I didn't expect you to go the whole hog."

I look up. She's there, that indignant look firmly in place.

"Sheriff Swan, it'd be nice if, just once, you started our little chats with a 'hello'."

She rolls her eyes.

"Hello Mr Gold, nice weather we're having. What the hell did you tell Henry?"

"I'd wager you already know, seeing as you're here."

She sighs pointedly, approaching my counter. It appears I was right to confide in the boy; even his mother doesn't believe in him. I'd be sorry for him, if it didn't work out so well for my agenda.

"I just meant for you to listen to the story, not actually make up some confession about being 'the beast' or whatever you're supposed to be."

I can't resist.

"Who's to say I'm not?"

She pauses there, eyeing me, pushes her golden hair back. I smile.

"We're getting off the topic."

I've had time to think this through; the cup gave me another sleepless eve after leaving the Mayor's house. It's power seems to be growing, the force of it penetrates every room of my empty home.

"Look," I begin as naturally as possible. "I was just going to listen to the story, but when Henry gave me Caroline's name..."

I look down at the polished counter, see a shadow of Emma in its surface. Count the seconds. One. Two.

"You know her?"

"I knew her, once."

It's not untrue. And that makes the next time I meet her eyes much harder. I let the feelings show a little, against my better judgement. It may be to my advantage.

"Her father put her there, with the help of the Mayor, no doubt. She's no mental patient. She's as sane as you or I. He committed her... to punish her."

-::-

The data's a lot to handle, and coming from Gold, all the harder to believe. But if anyone around here seems to know what's going down in Storybrooke, it would have to be him.

"So you broke into a little boy's room to find this out?" There has to be something more to this, something deeper than he's letting on.

"I had a feeling. And I was right. So I told Henry a story, just like he told me. And he gave me the information."

"You knew her. So... that thing with Moe French last week... was more than you told me about?"

He looks different again now, that weird glimmer's back in his eyes, that deep, human feeling that doesn't sit right with me. He holds my gaze. He actually looks kind of sad.

"Some time ago, Regina led me to believe that Caroline had killed herself. I always blamed him for that. Always."

It almost feels like I'm talking to a different man. Whoever this woman is, it's clear he cares about her. He finally looks away, back down at the counter.

"And now I find Regina's been keeping her locked up, all this time. It's low, even for her."

"Can't argue with that."

There is silence, and he doesn't look up this time. His breathing has slowed, like he's holding back. An awkward moment passes. Is he actually crying? Or trying not to? But then he looks up and his face is emotionless. Back to the Gold I'm used to, which is oddly comforting.

"That favour you owe me, Sheriff. It's time."

I can already guess what's coming.

"You're going to help me get her out of there."

-::-

I had the dream again last night. The one where the scaly man hands me a rose. It's creepy, but it's always better than being awake. This little grey room that I wake up to disappoints me every morning. At least I think it's morning. The lighting doesn't give much away.

The lighting was better in the dream. There were wide windows open with streaming sunlight in a grand castle. There were threads of gold, tapestries, books, tea sets and silverware. And him, the scaly man. He's a weird sort, but he's company at least.

Definitely better than here. I take a walk around the little cell, bare feet padding the concrete floor. The only company here is the nurse that brings a fresh gown. She doesn't speak. Then there are the eyes at the door. The dark eyes. The silent eyes. I've seen them in my dreams too. Funny how things influence your mind.

I'm lost in a thought when the door opens, and I run for the corner without a backward glance. It's a strange sound when all you usually have is emptiness. I turn from the corner, looking for the nurse. She's not alone.

Men. Two of them, dressed in the same colours as the nurse. She speaks, but not to me.

"You can take her to the psych lab for the interview. Might have to wheel her, she'll be disoriented after so long in this box."

The nurse looks around my little home. Her voice doesn't sound how I'd imagined.

"Doctor Greer will be waiting."

One of the men leaves, then appears again with a wheelchair. The other man looks at me, and there is a light in his eyes.

"Caroline."

Strange. I think I'd forgotten my name. But it sounds all right now. Sounds like it ought to fit me.

"We're going to take you upstairs now, to see a doctor. It might be time for you to come out of here."

I walk to toward the chair, turning to settle into it. I'm facing the cell with its darkness, its grey walls. I wonder if the dreams will stop if I leave here. I can almost see the scaly man waving goodbye. And suddenly I don't want to leave.

But they're moving the chair out, and when I try to get up the nurse holds me back, pushes me over my heart. She's much stronger than me. I drop like a sack back into the seat. Things are changing, I guess.

I hope my next prison has windows.

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><p><strong>Reviewers will receive milk and cookies*<strong>

****_*not really, but you can imagine I gave you them_


	6. What happens if she doesn't remember me

I stand in line at the desk with the other visitors, waiting for the lazy-looking nurse to take notice. The line moves slowly, and with every minute it seems harder to stay put. I wonder should I even be here. What happens if she doesn't remember me? Will it be better or worse if she does?

Eventually I reach the front of the line.

"Sign in here."

I sign in here.

"Patient?"

"Caroline French."

A moment. She types something into her computer.

"Are you family?"

Best not to lie quite so soon.

"No."

"Sorry, only family. She's highly unstable."

Damn. Should have lied.

"It's ok, he's with me."

I turn to she the sheriff's badge flashing past me. She signs herself in next to me.

"It's very important," she says to the vapid face behind the desk.

"If you say so. Second floor, Ward G, private room at the end of the ward. That way."

The nurse points, and we walk. We walk in silence at first, stepping into an elevator full of busy looking people. I don't look at her; I don't want to see the smug look I know is all over her face. The lift shudders to a halt on the next floor. We are the only two to depart, and I find a deserted corridor ahead.

My cane clicks along the hard floor. Her heeled boots tap in time.

"Why are y-"

"You think I was going to miss this? After you called in your precious favour to get here? I want to see what all the fuss is about."

I chance a glance. She's looking ahead, spying out the letters, looking for G. I almost want to thank her. I don't.

We reach G, pass through the overpopulated ward with another flash of her badge. We approach a small room. The blinds are closed, and a hefty orderly stands outside like a bodyguard. One eye on his dark face is shiny, red and purple bruises around it. Highly unstable, the nurse said. I could almost laugh. Looks like the Queen didn't quite manage kill her spirit.

Emma says something to the orderly, but I'm hardly listening any more. I just wait at the door, watching it until she joins me.

"I'm gonna come in with you."

I'm not surprised. I just nod, still watching the door. She steps closer, opens the door, and heads in. I breathe deep. The feeling from the cup, that strange energy, is all over the room, it hits me like a wave of flame. I walk deeper into the magic, finding a figure on the floor in a hospital robe.

She seems to be glowing a little. I wonder if the sheriff can see it. She's standing back at the door, letting me go first, watching the girl on the floor with suspicion. My shoes come level with the girl's bare feet, she tucks them under her legs sharply.

"Caroline?"

-::-

His voice is rich and foreign, and it doesn't sound angry or annoyed like a hospital worker. His shoes are so shiny I can see my face in them. I shake some hair down in front of my face, drop my head.

"Do I know you?"

I hear his feet shuffle. "Maybe," he says. I don't know that voice. "You might remember my face. It's been a very long time since I've seen you."

The voice is quiet, sometimes like a rasp, and it shakes when he gets to the end of what he's saying. Is he scared of me?

I take a quick look up, but when my eyes catch his face I don't look away like I thought I would.

-::-

The scene is a strange one to watch from the doorway. The orderly's poking his head in with me, watching cautiously as the girl gets to her feet. He runs a hand over his eye absently. For a moment the idea of Gold getting socked appeals to me, but I push back the smile.

Gold stands stock still, just looks at her calmly. Caroline stumbles onto her feet like a baby deer. She looks pretty weak. I want to tell Gold to help her up, but there's something quietly confident about the way he's standing, like he knows how not to get punched in the eye by a mental patient.

Then it gets weirder. The girl puts her hands on Gold's face. She moves him this way and that, turning his chin, taking a good look. Then she touches his hair. All the while he stays perfectly still, just looks at her, half a smile on his lips.

"Did you..." the girls begins. She screws up her face, closes her eyes for half a moment like a kid in a math test. "Was your hair different?"

Gold laughs, and it almost makes me jump. It's a kind laugh. Not like anything I've ever heard from him.

"Yes, it was quite different."

-::-

It seems I've fallen into an ideal situation. But one has to be sure.

"So... do you remember me?" I ask.

Her hand is still on my shoulder. I can hear her toying with the tips of my hair.

"Almost." She gives me a good once over again, close to my face. Although I've thought of her for many years, I think I'd forgotten just how immense her beauty was.

"It's like... You feel familiar. Like I know you. But I don't know where from."

For the first time since entering her little room, I look away, down to my shoes. And I see her little bare feet standing right there next to me. Alive. Well. Unable to remember how I hurt her, or why she had to suffer. And now she can be free.

"What's your name?"

"It's Gold."

"I..." I look back at her face, her eyes are narrowing at me, almost pained. Those bright blue eyes that I never thought I'd see again.

"I don't know that name."

This doesn't surprise me. What can I say to placate her? Perhaps I can blame her memory lapse on the cell, the hospital, too much time alone? I look into her eyes again, a little lost, starting a hundred different sentences in my head. What to say. But she saves me.

She smiles.

"But I do know you," she says, and she nods confidently. "I'm sure I do."

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><p><strong>Much love to all those who enjoy and review!<strong>


	7. I wait in the office in the dim light

I wait in the office in the dim light of the early morning. Files and folders from yesterday's workload lie scattered on his desk. I watch the doorway, Belle's face flooding my thoughts.

I could've swung for the orderly myself when he said she was on a restricted visiting allowance. Highly unstable, as they say. Thirty minutes with her, after thirty years without. It was agony to have to leave. The sheriff said almost nothing all the way back to the hospital exit, like she'd witnessed some strange event that she couldn't bring herself to talk about. I suppose it must be strange for her to see my humanity. Sometimes it's still strange for me.

He's late for work. But eventually the door swings open and he appears, hanging his umbrella on the coatstand.

"Morning Doctor Hopper."

He shrieks a little to himself, turns to face me with wide, pale eyes.

"M-Mr Gold," he stutters out the words. "How did you-?"

"Never you mind."

He is silent.

"You're behind on the rent for this office."

"I..." He eyes the cane in my hand nervously. Perhaps the news of Moe French's injury has started to travel. "I know, sir, but it's been a slow month, and-"

"Why don't you take a month off from the rent?"

He carries on rambling for a moment before my words sink in. I watch them click into place in his eyes. He looks at me, clearly confused.

"We'll call it a payment holiday."

I smile. Hopper doesn't like it. He fakes a grin back, coughs out a nervous breath. Stumbles over his words again.

"Well that's, um... that's very kind of you, Mr Gold."

"No it's not."

"I'm sorry?"

"You're going to do something for me in return."

"Ah. W-Well... I, um."

"Sit down Archie."

He sits. I approach him at the desk, and I can see the hairs standing on his neck. When I asked for a comfortable life from the Queen, I had never imagined how good she'd make it for me. I leave him in silence for a tense moment, enjoying the fear I've created.

"There's a mental patient at the local hospital recovering from a long time in solitary confinement."

"I see," he replies, not daring to look back at me. "Y-You want me to treat her?"

"No. I want you to meet her, and make a report."

"O-Okay..."

"And then you're going to recommend that she's well enough to sign herself out of that place."

I leave a card in front of him on the desk with Belle's new name and ward details. I move toward the door, but I can hear him starting to mumble again. I stop.

"But, M-Mr Gold... What if she isn't well enough for release?"

I turn to face him one last time, give him a narrow-eyed look. I find it hard to believe that he doesn't already know my answer.

"Didn't I just tell you what you're going to do?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Then that's what you do."

I change the cane over in my hands. He watches it feverishly.

"Are we clear?"

I'm out of the door before he can even mutter the 'yes' I'd expected.

- :: -

When I decided to pay Caroline French a second visit, I wasn't all that sure why. I'd barely spoken to her the first time, just watched with a morbid fascination whilst she pawed at Gold. By the time she'd even noticed I was there, we were being thrown out because our thirty minutes were up. But I felt like I had to go back to her no sooner Gold and I had parted ways in the parking lot. I couldn't help but wonder what his deal is with this girl, and whether it was something to be concerned about.

So here I am, outside her door with the same huge orderly. His eye is healing a little, the bruise is changing colour.

"Thirty minutes, tops."

"I remember."

So he lets me in. Caroline's sat on the floor again. Odd.

"Hi there," I begin, and I can hear how awkward I sound. "Hi Caroline... I was here yesterday, with Mr Gold."

At his name her head turns and she looks beyond me for a moment. Then she looks me up and down. She nods, getting to her feet.

"Yes. Gold said you were... the sheriff."

I try to give her a smile, but I'm not sure that she likes it.

"That's right. I came back to see if you were okay. It must've been hard for you, meeting someone you know again, after so long."

Something's not right about her fuzzy memories of Gold, and I'm not all that keen to put it down to being locked in a padded cell for a few years.

Caroline sits down on the edge of her bed, still eyeing me carefully.

"It was all right. I'm okay."

I get the feeling that's my cue to leave. I'm not good at following cues.

I take up the chair in the corner of the room; give her my best smile again.

"So you remember knowing him?"

Her careful gaze is lost as she starts to think. She nods slowly to herself.

"I definitely know him."

"Do you remember where from?"

She looks at me suddenly, sharply.

"No, as it happens. I'm sorry, but I'm not sure what this has to do with you. Are you connected to Mr Gold in some way?"

The accusation in her eyes is fierce, protective; it reminds me of Gold himself when I didn't find that damned teacup he was after.

"Well, not exactly..."

The girl raises a brow, like she's waiting. I'm starting to think that Gold was right about her sanity. She looks way too focused to have mental issues right now.

"It's just that Mr Gold was in a disagreement with a relative of yours the other day. Moe French? I'm guessing he's-"

"My father."

Caroline's eyes widen, then she closes them tightly.

"I remember my father."

I can see her hands balling into tight fists, and then suddenly she bursts into tears, throws herself back on the bed. The orderly rushes in at the thumping sound as her body hits the bed frame, starts ushering me out, calling for aid. A whole stream of people pass me by, all pushing me back, and soon I'm left standing alone outside ward G, and I can still hear her crying uncontrollably.

So much for trying to help.

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews are like crack to me :)<strong>


	8. She has nowhere else to go For now

Having a call about strangers hanging out in the woods is no big deal in Storybrooke. I'm starting to carry this torch with me every night on patrol. I approach the muted sound of voices slowly, trying not to crack any twigs or rustle too many leaves on the way. It'd be nice to get a heads up on who I'm about to catch and what they might be doing.

I can see some other torchlights ahead. I switch mine off, following the sound of the voices until they become clear.

"You can't be serious."

It's a guy's voice, but this first voice is shaking and whisper too much to tell who it is.

"She has nowhere else to go. For now."

The second voice doesn't shake. And I know who it belongs to. What a surprise.

"She's been in that place all her life, Gold. I don't even know her."

"I'm not asking you to play happy families, French. You're the only one who she can go to without causing... suspicion."

There is a silence. I knew there was something sinister going on with Gold and that girl. I wonder whether I should jump in yet, but Gold starts to talk and I can't help but listen.

"You know that van is only one word away from being back in your garage..."

"... You mean that? If I take her in, just for now, you'll-"

"Yes. And an extension on repaying what you owe me."

"... How long?"

"So long as you don't upset her, or start interfering in her life again ... Six months?"

"A year."

Gold laughs. It sounds so different from the laugh he gave to Caroline. I can't believe that I almost thought there was more to him. But I know now, he's all about the -

"Deal."

The men shake hands, and French disappears off one way in the trees. Gold starts coming my way. For a moment I look around for somewhere to hide, but after a moment my feet stay rooted. His torch follows the ground ahead of him, until he lights my boots.

He looks up.

"Sheriff... Fancy seeing you here."

He gives me that smile.

"I thought you were done with Mr. French, now you're best buds again?"

"Things have changed."

"Now isn't that interesting."

- :: -

Emma Swan is starting to be more trouble than the fun amount. Here I am, trying to conduct a simple business transaction, and she's interfering yet again. I try to pass her, and she steps into my path.

"I'm sick of watching you threaten your way to getting that girl out of hospital."

"You know, you're making it sound like I'm doing a bad thing."

She pauses there, looking at me with that suspicious confusion she seems to just reserve for me.

"It feels like you are."

I'd admire her indignation more if she wasn't getting in my way so often.

"So what's the deal Gold? Who is she? Why do you need her out of that hospital?"

I grit my teeth. Perhaps this calls for the truth. A version of it, at least.

"I want her out of there before the Mayor puts her power over the doctors and they haul her away underground again. What she means to me... beyond that. Frankly it's none of your concern."

She folds her arms at me, but her tone when she next speaks is softer.

"I helped you get her out of that cell. Whatever happens to her from here is my business too, like it or not."

Her involvement is frustrating. I try to pass her again, and again she's in the way, this time my cane actually jabs her outstretched foot.

"Can't it be enough that I want to help her?"

She squares up to me, now inches from my face. The urge to look away is overwhelming, but I stand my ground, praying that my eyes don't give me away. After a moment she steps aside, lets me pass.

I start to walk as swiftly as I'm able.

"I went to see her today."

Damn it. I stop.

"You? Why?"

She reaches the short distance between us and starts to walk, lighting her torch. I follow her steps.

"I wanted to see what she remembered about you, but it turns out there's only one person she actually remembers from this place."

Lost in her words, I stumble on a root, kicking it hard. Emma stops, waiting for me to catch up.

"Who? Who is it?"

I rue the eagerness in my own voice, but there's no helping it.

"Her father."

She faces me with a more patient look than before.

"She went into hysterics when she remembered. Whatever went down there, she knows about it. And I figure he's the last person she's going to want to see, let alone go home with."

So she did hear the whole deal with French. Sneaky one, that woman. But that aside, the information is more than useful. I begin to walk again, giving Emma the most patient smile I can muster.

"I think you'll find they'll patch things up once she's home."

"You're kidding me."

We reach the edge of the forest and come to the roadside. I look towards my empty house in its dark corner for a moment. The sheriff is still beside me, looking aghast.

"Emma. I'm going to ask you, just this once, to trust me. I'm right. You'll see."

And still she stands there as I head for home; I can feel her eyes watching me go.

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><p><strong>About Updates: For those of you who keep saying 'Update soon' - I'm glad you're so keen for more story, but you get a new chap every night before I go to bed, so be patient dearies!<strong>


	9. I step into the small house

**UPDATE: I am so very sorry that I couldn't get this to you sooner. Apart from being very ill these last few days, my main laptop has totally died. I spent all day yesterday rescuing its files and transferring them to my netbook so I can have it repaired. Thank God I saved my Rumbelles! Anyway sorry again folks, and I hope you keep reading and enjoying!**

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><p>I step into the small house and turn instinctively into a family room I don't remember. He follows me in, puts my bag near the sofa, goes back to shut the door. In all the time between him coming to collect me and now, we haven't said a word to each other.<p>

He looks different to how I remember, much older now, a little larger. And so tired.

I seem to remember him being strong. I wonder where that went.

"You can sit... if you want to."

I take a seat on the red couch, look down at my little bag of personal effects. These tattered earrings and knick knacks have been locked away as long as I have; I don't recall owning most of them. There's just the one thing that I think I know. I reach for the bag, fumbling until I find the necklace. It's gold, still shining after all this time, and so delicate to touch. It feels expensive, so thin it could have been spun from straw.

I check myself. Straw? A strange thought. Wonder what part of my addled mind that came from.

It's only now I notice that 'father' has gone; I can hear cups moving and drawers closing in the kitchen. I slip the simple necklace back into the bag, sealing its clasp.

I really don't feel like I've ever lived in this room.

And yet I must have, because there's my picture on the mantle. At least I feel like it's me, at maybe seven or eight years old, smiling through the glass.

"Carrie?"

I jump. He pokes his head through the doorway.

"Would you like some tea? Or something to eat?"

His face doesn't look all that kind despite the offer. It's blank, void of anything akin to feeling. I know how he feels.

"Just the tea... thanks."

He nods, and he's gone again.

I sit forward on the couch, hugging my knees and looking at the carpet. I don't see how it's going to work, me staying here, but at least it doesn't have that disinfected smell I've gotten so used to. I wonder if he shares the same concern. He clearly doesn't expect me to leap to attention as the doting daughter, which is just as well.

He brings me the tea, and as I take the cup, the phone rings. I watch my father walk to the bureau and take up the call.

"You got Moe."

He listens carefully to the voice on the end of the line.

"Yes."

He says. His voice gives nothing away. He looks at me for half a moment.

"Yes, everything's fine."

Another pause. I strain to hear the other voice, but it's just an echoing whisper from this distance.

"Yes, I remember."

He puts the phone down, looking at the wall ahead of him for a moment. I look away and sip my tea.

"If..." He begins, coming to face me again at the side of the sofa. "If you want to take that up to your room, I won't be offended." He looks at me blankly. I believe him. "You know, if you need some time to yourself."

I get to my feet and slip the little bag over my free arm. I don't need telling twice.

- :: -

After an appalling day at school, getting walked home by my Evil Queen of a mother is decidedly not fun. Though I guess I've been asking for it, I have a feeling she knows I've been talking to Emma on the down-low these last few days. At least I'm lucky that she doesn't know why. I tune back in to her lecture as we reach our front door, look up as though I've been listening all along.

"And so you can't just say 'I don't feel like doing Biology today'. It's just rude Henry. I have a reputation to upload – this family has a reputation."

"I'm sorry. I'll be polite. I'll apologise tomorrow."

"You're damn right you will."

She opens the door, heels click-clicking into the hallway. I scurry past, heading for the stairs.

"You don't want your dinner?" She calls.

I turn halfway upstairs, shake my head, try for an ashamed look.

"I feel kinda off my food. Can I leave it 'til later?"

She eyes me carefully with those black orbs. Eventually she nods.

I reach the top of the stairs, satisfied that I can at least get some time alone to think. As I reach my room, I notice the door is open a little, which is never how I leave it. I can see a shadow through the gap that shouldn't be there.

I know I ought to be cautious, but I just have a feeling.

I enter the room and shut the door quickly behind me, find a figure sitting on my bed.

Gold.

- :: -

"Evening. You've been a while getting home."

He drops his bag, comes to sit beside me on the mattress.

"Mom decided we had to walk today."

"Despicable," I say with a discerning look.

He smiles at me. He seems rather glad that I'm here. Curious boy.

"It's actually her that I've come to talk to you about."

His eyes widen eagerly.

"Does she know where Belle... I mean, Caroline, has gone yet?"

He shakes his head happily.

"Nun-uh. She's been picking me up every day straight from work to stop me seeing Emma. No hospital visits. I guess nobody's tipped her off either."

"They ought not to, the amount of money I gave them."

He looks at me in amazement, and I can't resist the genuine smile I have for his expression.

"You bought their silence?" He asks in awe.

I nod. "For a pretty penny. That nosy nurse didn't come cheap."

"Cool."

"So now Henry, I need to ask something else of you."

He edges closer to me in anticipation.

"Sure," he says in a lowered tone. "What do you need, Mr. Gold?"

"I need you to tell me when Regina finds out about Miss French leaving the hospital. The very second you know, I need to know. Is that clear?"

I slip a hand into my inside pocket and produce the number. Henry takes it, nodding.

"Absolutely," he says. "I'll listen in, get the intel."

His fanaticism is admirable.

"I suppose I promised you some information too."

Henry beams like I've made his day. Maybe even his month. I sit back a little more comfortably on the bed, listen out for a moment for any sound of Her Majesty on the stairs, then look back to the boy. It's uncanny how all children have that same starry-eyed look when you promise them a story. It could be my boy all over again, asking for tales of the war at bed time.

"Tell me what your book says about Red Riding Hood, and I'll fill in the rest."


	10. I suppose I have a shop to run

Today feels like the kind of day I could go and see her. I feel measured now, like the sight of her face won't have me shaking. But one can never tell. It appears that all my efforts may well be for nothing if I don't actually take the five minutes to walk to the French residence and ring the doorbell. The most I've managed since Ward G is to ring French senior a few times and check on her health.

Still, I suppose I have a shop to run. Wouldn't do to close early on a Monday. Business usually picks up about three.

Three strikes on the grandfather clock behind the counter. It hasn't picked up.

I pull up a stool behind the tall glass cabinets and start polishing some jewellery. An unpleasant task, I can always see my reflection gleaming back at me from the surface of the gold. Most often it's my face as it is now, the human form Regina gave to me. But sometimes, just once in every while, I see beyond it, into my real face. It happens today, a flash in the gold just for a second. I see the light in my eyes, a glimpse of the Dark power trapped beneath this human flesh. I see the thick skin that should cover my face, glowing green in the distorted reflection.

The little bell rings above the doorway.

Tearing myself from the now-shining ring, I crane my neck around the cabinet.

Belle.

But so very unlike Belle. Caroline, for certain, in some godawful sweats that her father undoubtedly provided. She's looking at the marionettes with fascination. For a fleeting moment I wonder if she can recall me showing them to her, but then I remember. How hard it must be, to know yet not really know.

She crouches to look into a cupboard of china, going out of view. I push forward a little more, trying to see her without her notice. The jewellery in my lap that I'd forgotten about goes clattering to the floor.

She leaps back upright, spins on her heel to see me. I rise from the chair.

"Sorry, didn't see you there, dear."

She lets a breath out; the relief on her face is oddly comforting.

"Gold. It's all right. I was just-"

She stops there, looking down at the rings and the polishing cloth on the floor.

"This is... your shop?"

I stoop to pick up the scattered elements. She reaches for the ring nearest her, the one I was shining. When I rise again she comes nearer, hands it to me. And she watches my face as I take it. Those eyes. It's hard to look into them and not just talk to her the way I used to, all those months in the castle. But Gold must be a different man, for a different time. The old way that I treated her never did me much good.

"This is my work, yes. I do quite well in this little town."

She nods, looking around her.

"I feel like I've been in here before." She gives me a pleading look. "A long time ago?"

I can do little to resist the opportunity she's presenting.

- :: -

"You have," he says.

I nod, and I can feel a strange excitement buzzing at the back of my mind. All day I've walked the streets of Storybrooke looking for memories, trying each face that passes me. But nothing feels like this, standing here in this musty space. Strange objects around us, a bizarre collection gathering dust. Nothing feels as real as seeing him.

"So... you remember me, from before I was... in the-"

The words refuse to surface.

"Yes," he cuts in. "I told you. I know you, Caroline."

His face is calm, but his eyes are wide and deep, like he's on the verge of saying something else.

"Could you... tell me about... me?"

It sounds stupid the moment it's out there. But he just smiles, takes in a thoughtful breath.

"Didn't your dad have anything to say?"

I feel a little lump in my throat at his mention.

"He doesn't say much. I feel like a bit of a lodger to be honest. Like I'm staying in someone else's house."

He nods, and for a split second I see his tongue dart out over his bottom lip, and then it's gone again. I've seen him do that. I know I have. I just don't know when, or where.

"Well you'll be out of there in no time, I'm sure. Find yourself a nice job, get a bit of cash. Start your life over."

It sounded quite positive, to start with, but the last line catches me. I'm not sure that sounds all that appealing. Something in his voice says he doesn't believe it either.

"I wouldn't need to start over if I could remember."

"Ah, well. There's the rub."

I realise now he's avoiding it. There must be something, something important he knows about me, else there'd be no problem in telling me. I feel a swell of bravery that comes from almost nowhere.

"Why won't you tell me how I know you?"

The bravery dies when I see his face at the question. For a moment I fear that I've offended him, his wide-eyed look feels like he might just up and leave. But then he looks away, and his face breaks into a small smile. He looks sad behind it.

"It wouldn't be right... if you didn't remember on your own."

He gives me that deep look again, and I focus in on his eyes without meaning to. And then I find I can't look away, like those eyes are pulling me in. A scene forms around us, and I'm miles from the little pawnbrokers, somewhere with snow outside; I can see it through huge windows. It feels like a vacation; a distant place that we've both been to before. I can't see him looking at me, but I know he was there; the way's he's standing next to me now is just the same as then. If I just keep looking, maybe I can-

"MR. GOLD!"

The door behind us flies open with a bang, and a shouting little boy rushes in. When I look back to Gold, the deep look is gone; instead his eyes flash from me to the boy, then back to me. He puts a warm hand on my arm, and I realise I'm shaking. He squeezes for half a moment.

"I'm really sorry," he excuses, "I'll just sort this out."

The small boy is panting and huffing as Gold reaches him.

"Henry," he says. "Henry what's the matter?"

"She knows."

The boy looks up, but not at Gold. He looks at me.

"She just went... to the ward, to see why... she'd been released from the... restricted... section."

He pants again, dropping his head.

"I think Archie must've... I'm not..."

Gold crouches in front of the boy to meet his face.

"It's okay Henry. You've done well to get here and tell me. You run home now, before you land yourself in trouble."

The boy nods and picks himself up, bounding out of the store with heavy steps.

Gold turns to me, and his face is etched with panic. It frightens me. I hadn't pictured him as someone who could lose control.

"B-"

Whatever he was going to say dies on his lips. He blinks hard, looks back at me.

"Caroline, can you do me a favour... and just stay here with me, just for this afternoon?"

There's a pleading, open look to his eyes that wasn't there before. It doesn't look like I'm allowed to say no.


	11. The little bell rings

I enter the shop to find the shop floor empty. The little bell rings. In an instant Gold pokes his head around the doorway of the back room.

"You called the station?"

He nods. And then he slips back into the room.

I wind my way through his weird collection until I reach the doorway. No sooner I step into the room I see Caroline sitting behind his desk. She nurses a cup of coffee, and smiles weakly at me. Gold is perched on the end of the desk.

"Haven't seen Regina around, have you?"

"Not so far," I reply. "Why, what's up?"

"She's looking for Caroline."

I nod. I guess we knew this was coming sometime. The hospital records had pointed to her involvement, as Gold knew they would. And now somehow he knows that she's prowling the town in search of Caroline. And I'll bet he knows why, too.

"So you called… me?"

"I guessed Regina would head for the florist first, then me. That gave me time to get you here."

I don't get it. He's twitchy, listening out for the door, shuffling in his space.

"Do you... want protection?"

He nods. "I know Regina. I know how to handle her. But she doesn't."

He looks at Caroline, and she puts down her cup. She looks between us both, and I can see that she's shaking. Her eyes shine at the corners as teardrops build. She sucks them back, rubs at her eyes.

"Gold thinks this Regina person... She might want to put me back there. Back underground."

The dread she's feeling leaks into the room around us, makes me feel colder.

Gold reaches across the desk, puts his hand on her shoulder. I have that weird feeling again, like there's another layer of this stranger unfolding in front of me. I guess Henry had him pegged with that Beauty and the Beast stuff after all. Pain in the ass to most the world, but maybe there's something more human inside.

"Sheriff, I'd like another pair of eyes here when Regina undoubtedly-"

The little bell rings, the door slams shut.

"Gold," Regina calls loudly. "We need to talk."

I make for the door, but a sharp sob catches me. Caroline is shivering again.

"I don't want to... you won't make me... have to..."

She starts to panic, but Gold takes her chin gently, turns her face to his.

"Shhh," he says quietly. "I'll talk to her. The sheriff will stay here with you for now."

Well that's me told, I guess.

He gets up and heads out of the door, closing it gently behind him. I hear quiet voices beyond it, but can't make out the words. It looks like Caroline's listening too. She catches my eye, and then smiles a little. She sniffs back another tear.

"You okay?"

She nods.

"Gold... He says he's going to do anything he can to stop the Mayor putting me back in the hospital."

"Well you're backing a winner. He's a powerful guy around here. Things always seem to get done the way he wants them done."

She seems comforted by this, and stops listening for voices. I almost want to warn her about Gold, about what he's prepared to do when he says 'anything'. But I don't. She looks so fragile. If he's using his power to protect her, then why should I step in?

"He won't tell me how I know him."

I feign a little surprise.

"Well that's odd."

"I have a theory though."

I cross the room and perch myself where Gold was seated.

"Go for it."

She laughs just once. "It's silly I guess... But it was something my father said this morning. He doesn't talk to me much; he's just been letting me go my own way."

"And that's okay?"

She nods. "I think if he tried to be a proper dad it would upset me. The way he is now, it's all right."

So Gold's little meeting in the woods was more than just reuniting dad and daughter. I can't help the creeped out feeling about how much he's meddling in Caroline's life, and that she has no idea, but compared to screaming and crying in the hospital, I have to admit Gold's way of quietly running her life does seem to be working.

"So your theory?"

"My father said something to one of his assistants. It was something like 'Gold always thinks he can have everything that belongs to me'. So I think maybe me and Gold, before I was locked away... we could've been..."

I can actually feel my eyes widen in shock.

"Really?" I ask.

I mean sure, I definitely thought from Gold's perspective that he had some feelings for Caroline. But for her to feel anything back, to even broach the idea of that... I guess I wasn't prepared to hear that part.

"When he's here I feel safe. I'm freaking out, you know, with that woman out there. But he's here... so it's okay."

I nod, and I wonder if the disbelief is still showing on my face, because she's starting to look away like she's embarrassed.

"Sure, I can understand that."

She looks back at me, smiles again.

"And when we talk, I feel like I've spent so much time with him. Like I've told him everything before. I mean, why would I feel like that?"

I guess she makes sense. I can feel a question bubbling up to the surface of my mind, and I'm not sure I want to know the answer. But it starts falling out of my mouth nevertheless.

"And you think he's attractive?"

She smiles widely. "Maybe not to everyone," she inclines her head to me. "But I do. Kind of a lot."

The voices outside the door become raised, as though they're coming closer. Caroline shrinks a little behind the desk. I shift my weight in front of her and she shies away behind me.

"I am here to speak to Sheriff Swan, and frankly it's none of your concern why."

"I know damn well that's not true."

"Ooh. Nasty. It doesn't become you, Gold. Now-"

The door flies open in her usual fashion. She smiles that sickly smile of camaraderie at me.

- :: -

"Good evening Sheriff."

Her voice catches me off guard. It almost sounds friendly. Against all instinct I rise from the desk, raise my head over the sheriff's shoulder. She's a dark figure in a power suit, smiling playfully at us all.

And then I see her eyes, and I know. She was the visitor. The silent eyes that have watched me for as long as I can remember. I feel a sickly lurch in my stomach. She smiles at me directly.

"Ah, and Miss French is here. Well isn't that helpful."

Gold stands behind her in the doorway, he's looking at me too, but it's almost as if he can't see me. His eyes are glassed over, his mind clearly working overtime. It gives me a little hope.

"Well hey there Madam Mayor." Emma smiles and grimaces at the same time. "Whatever can I do for you this fine afternoon?"

"I'm here to report a situation, Miss Swan."

The Mayor looks at me again, and this time the smile is wider.

"I'd like you to escort Miss French to the station."

Emma cocks her head to the side. "Of course you would. And for what reason?"

"I've been having a little chat with Caroline's father, and apparently she's exhibiting some violent behaviour. He claims she struck him unprovoked last night."

Gold snaps from his thoughts, looks at me questioningly. Emma turns too, and her eyes are wide with surprise. I was hoping not to have to bring this up… ever.

"Y-You weren't there. You didn't see how it happened."


	12. My probationary mental patient

One the one hand, there's a pleasant sense of vengeance in knowing that my Belle struck out at her father. On the other, there's an overwhelming sense of panic at the fact that my probationary mental patient has attacked someone.

"I'm sorry, but violence is something we have to take very seriously… considering your recent past. That's the law, and no amount of pleading can change that fact."

She aims this last at me. If I had a third hand right now, I'd slap her with it.

The sheriff's fury seems to equal my own, I can feel a wave of rage filtering the air between us, hitting Regina on all sides. If my true powers were still available to me, things would change very quickly in this room.

"It's in the bylaws regarding outpatients, you see. The fact is, whilst Miss French here is a legal occupant of her father's household, any act of violence towards members of that household results in overnight detention, and a pending psychiatric… reassessment."

She relishes in the last word, and I know her game-plan now. I have no control over Emma, and Emma has no control over the law. It seems she too has found a use for the sheriff's power.

"You don't understand!" Caroline pleads, and I see her fighting back the quiver in her voice. "It wasn't unprovoked. He said things, he-"

"I'm sure you have a great side of the story, Miss French," Regina begins in her matter-of-fact tone. "But Moe is a very good acquaintance of mine, and a man of utmost integrity, and I'm inclined to take his words very seriously."

Integrity indeed. I'll see how much integrity he has left after the next visit I make to him. I look to Caroline, and see her face fall, her eyes dropping to the ground. But then she looks up at me, and her eyes are so hopeful.

And I hate that I have nothing to offer, that I cannot protect her as I've promised. The power has been taken from my hands.

- :: -

"So this is a question of occupancy?"

The three of them look at me like I'm speaking in tongues. Caroline is lost, Gold looks like he's halfway to saying something, and Regina is recovering her confused expression into a graceful smirk.

"Sure. If you prefer to think of it that way, Sheriff."

"Well then there's no problem."

I have a niggling feeling that I might regret what I'm about to do. But Henry crosses my mind, and his stories, and I think of the lengths that Gold has gone to with those fairytales to save this young woman.

"I'm sorry?" Says Regina.

Gold looks like he might have said the same thing, but he's still just behind the Mayor and out of her vision. I wish I could signal him to lose the look of confusion in case she chances a glance at him.

"Miss French has… I guess you could say she's acquired a new tenancy."

"Oh really?" Regina asks.

"Yes."

I turn to see Caroline moving from behind the desk. Her lost look is gone. It seems that she caught my brainwave to act cool, at least.

"Yes I have," she says, this time with some force.

I nod at Regina's blank expression. "Mr Gold has very kindly agreed to take Caroline in as a lodger, owing to her recent disagreements with her father."

"Has he now?"

I can sense her suspicion. Fortunately, my last words have at last taken effect on Gold. He rounds Regina almost gracefully, a small smile playing into the corner of his mouth. He catches my for a moment, then turns on her.

"Caroline and I have a handshake agreement. I called the Sheriff here to bear witness, in case there were any… discrepancies, shall we say? I'll be drawing up the papers shortly."

"A handshake agreement?" Regina asks in and incredulous tone, but I can see the faint cracks appearing in her perfect plan. "That's really what you're going with?"

"It was all very official," I assure the Mayor with my best smile in place. I can see her gritting her teeth, her cheekbones moving to clench her jaw. "So I'd say Miss French's occupancy of the French residence was over not so long ago. Therefore there's no threat of any further harm, and no need for an overnight stay in my cells."

Regina makes to speak, but I cut in again after what I feel is an excellently-timed pause.

"Oh, but she will be given a caution for the outburst, I assure you."

"And that's all?" Regina asks, and now I can actually see her clutching at straws as her scheme falls apart. "Surely it's within your jurisdiction to recommend an assessment?"

"Oh it is," I say with a happy nod. "But I'm confident that Caroline will be of no harm to the general public for the foreseeable future, so there's no need, you see."

"And," Gold steps in, undoubtedly relishing the situation I've created, "If Miss French takes up her tenancy with me from tonight, and does not return to Mr French's residence, then your bylaws don't really have a leg to stand on."

For a moment something Gold said to me about a common enemy springs back into my mind. If I didn't distrust him so much, I'd be enjoying this moment of unity between us more.

"You have to admit Madam Mayor, this deal's been struck."

For a moment Gold gives me an odd look, and the only way I can find to describe it is whimsical. But then he smiles widely, and I catch a nasty look in his dark eyes.

"Shall I see you out?" He asks.

We both walk Regina to the door, and she leaves with a look of vengeance that suggests I won't be seeing Henry again for a long while. Not with her blessing, at least.

Gold watches her go through the window, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He turns to me when she's out of sight.

"Thank you."

It's the most sincere I've ever heard him, despite the creepy grin. But I don't return the smile.

"This doesn't mean I'm done keeping an eye on you… and whatever this is."

His grin fades off and his eyes narrowing appraisingly.

"Then why would you do this for me?"

I decide on honesty.

"Because she's better off with you than with Regina. Just about."

He looks thoughtful.

"Thank you, all the same."

I nod, opening the door to let myself out.

"Caroline's going to be getting a lot of visits from me, Gold, so I hope you can keep her happy."

- :: -

The sheriff leaves with a warning look, but I find it hard to pay attention to it as I cross the shop floor. A chance to put things right has been afforded me, and I'll stop at nothing to erase my mistakes now.

I return to the office to find Caroline reading a chart about hallmarks on my wall. A faint smile plays on her lips. When she sees me her posture changes, one shoulder rising shyly to her turned face.

"Well, I guess you're stuck with me…"

Half-glad, half-embarrassed. I can hardly decide which half looks better on her.


	13. I find him in the kitchen

I find him in the kitchen, sat at the breakfast bar with a newspaper and a mouthful of toast. He smiles up at me, setting the paper down. Takes a huge swig of coffee.

"Hi," I say, trying to ignore how awkward it sounds.

He smiles. "Good morning. Were you okay in that room?"

"Oh yes," I break into a smile at the palatial high-windowed room he has given me at the top of the old house. "It's lovely; the sun's so bright in the morning."

He nods, but his lips quiver. "It's just… I heard you… calling out?"

Awkward again. "Nightmares," I admit. "But I'm sure they'll pass, once I've spent enough time above ground."

Gold smiles again. "Definitely."

I look around the large kitchen at the menagerie of cupboards and drawers, rubbing my hands together in an effort not to look awkward. So much for that.

"So… breakfast…"

He points to a cupboard above the toaster.

"Help yourself."

I approach it, open the doors, and am greeted by a blaze of colourful objects.

"Wow… You have everything!"

I hear him chuckle quietly. I look along the rows of cereal boxes, snacks and baked things, but it all seems such a blur. I talk into the cupboard, looking at different things.

"It's all so different. Are these cereals new? I don't even know these flavours…"

A sudden feeling catches me as a gentle hand rests on the back of my shoulders. I let out a breath; feel the warmth of him next to me.

"Why don't you sit down, and I'll pick you something nice?"

I turn to look at him, see his hopeful face. And I'm sure I'm right about us. But is now the time to ask?

"You sure you know what I'll like?"

He lets go of my shoulder and starts reaching into the cupboard himself, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

"You used to like porridge oats," he says, unearthing a box containing the very thing. "Cooked with warm milk, and slathered in honey."

I don't remember it, but it sounds wonderful. "I think I'd like to try that then."

He moves away to the stove, sets about cooking the porridge. I fetch him the milk from the fridge, and a few quiet moments pass.

- :: -

"So we've had breakfast together before?"

I rather think I'm losing my cautiousness being in close quarters with her. I fear that giving too much away could unlock her real memories, and the last thing I want is for her to remember my mistakes before I've had a chance to make up for them.

It was a bad idea to remember her breakfast order aloud, but the memory of the first time she made me try the same sugary treat was circling in my mind as she talked about cereal. I remember that she talked about how little honey there was in my larder, and that I ought to order some to be brought, for it was the most delicious thing in the world, and she missed it so. And like a fool I did, and ended up eating it myself with her, and hated the oversweet taste.

But I couldn't tell her how the sweetness repulsed me, and I had eaten it every day for a month. And by the end of the month, it really was the most delicious thing in the world, and I was as addicted as she to the syrupy taste.

"Well what do you think?" I ask after a phenomenal pause for thought.

"I think you're going to burn it if you're going to drift off like that."

She's right of course, and I stir the oats up quickly, see that they're coming to heat.

"And that wasn't an answer."

I take the porridge off the heat, fetching the honey to serve it with. She watches me the whole time with an expectant smile. She takes her bowl silently when I produce it, receives her breakfast with that same smile. She sits at the table beside me, and does not eat.

"It'll go cold."

She picks up her spoon, still smiling.

"Answer me."

The fear of her knowing vanishes when I hear the pleading note in her voice. I swallow a glug of now-cold-coffee, and smile back.

"We have. A few times."

She giggles in triumph. "How many?" She asks greedily.

I can't help but laugh at her pluck. "A few. Eat your porridge."

She finally starts to eat, stopping to add more honey now and then, as she always did. I put a little on my remaining slice of toast, and, for a strange and brief moment, all is right with the world.

"I'll bet it was a lot of times," she says sometime later, and I can do little but smile.

- :: -

I run from the school gates as last period ends, an overwhelming relief as I see that my mother didn't decide to pick me up after all. She's too busy today, and I have to walk home alone. And that means only one thing.

Today I can finally start to break the curse.

I bolt through the door of Mr Gold's pawn shop, the little bell clanging overhead. I heave for breath, and Gold comes out from behind his counter.

"Not another emergency Henry? I'm worn out with all this drama."

I shake my head until my breath returns.

"No, no. I think Mom's admitted defeat for now. She's working on something else with her friend Katherine."

Mr Gold nods. "Good news. Then why-?"

"For my intel of course," I fill in. "Now, how much do you know about the curse the Queen cast? Do you know who made it? What does it look like?"

Mr Gold crouches down to my level, leaning on his stick.

"Why do you need to know that?"

I have to admit I'm surprised he doesn't know.

"To break it of course!" I reply excitedly.

Something changes in Gold's eyes, and the nervousness in my excitement takes a hold of me.

"Now why would I want you to do that?"

He looks sterner, and the dim light of the shop puts sharp and jagged shadows onto his face.

"But, we had a deal."

It feels like all the colour's draining out of the world, and the shop seems darker than when I first came in. Mr Gold puts a hand on my shoulder, and his grip is heavy, and scary.

"I told you I would tell you what I can."

He leans harder on me, brings his face closer to mine. It's contorted with a smile, but it's no smile I've ever seen, and for the first time I feel like I'm seeing not Gold, but the Beast.

"I'm happy here Henry. Did you really think I would help you to change this world, now that I have my Beauty back? Do you think I want her to remember what I did to her, how I cast her out?"

"But the others," I plead, starting to shake, "Like Mary Margaret, David, they're trapped, they-"

"I don't care about them!" His voice is louder, more hoarse. He pushes himself back to full height using my shoulder, sends me toppling backwards. I fall on the hard floor.

"I'll tell the Mayor! I… I'll tell Emma, I'll…"

"Go ahead," he says with a mocking bow. "And who'll believe you, little boy? Everyone thinks you're crazy, even dear, sweet Sheriff Swan."

Tears fall unstoppably. I scramble to my feet, my aching back bruising from the fall.

Mr Gold turns his back on me with a cruel smile, walking back into the shadows of the store.

"Get out."


	14. You're a great listener

I guess I'm flattered that I'm the one that Caroline comes to for a chat. But the more I see of her, the more I realise how open a person she is, and openness is one thing I'm not all that good at.

"You're a great listener," she says, smiling at me. "I bet I'm boring the hell out of you."

"Of course you're not."

I pass her some more coffee. The truth is, some of the stuff she says actually does interest me, particularly the parts where I can check that Gold's looking after her properly, I just don't have anything to offer back that's even half as interesting.

"I'm finding it hard to make any other friends around here."

"That could have something to do with the fact that they all owe money to your boyfriend."

She laughs at that, swats me with her free hand.

"You think that's what they think? That we're together?"

"I can honestly think of no other reason why any woman would move in with Gold."

She looks at me quizzically. "He's not that bad, you know. He's lovely to me."

"This may surprise you, but he's not all that nice to everyone else."

Caroline pauses before she speaks, considering my words. I realise that I'm on edgy ground, and quickly cut in again.

"So anyway, how's that going? Any sneak-peeks into your romantic past together?"

"I wish," she says earnestly. "If I get within six inches of him he'll only stay a moment, then suddenly my tea needs refreshing or perhaps I'd like to watch some television?"

"Well then there's definitely something going on."

She smiles, showing perfectly white teeth, and I can't help but think that a nice young guy who takes her to the beach would be a much more suitable option than the ruthless puppet-master she's chosen.

"Gold gave me some dosh for some new clothes, he says it's what my father's paid him back, so technically it's mine. I got a great top, you want to see?"

"Sure!"

She reaches into the bag. But as the golden blouse appears, so does Henry, his face streaked with tears.

"Emma!" He wails, and throws himself into me. I can feel my stomach getting wet through my shirt.

"Hey, hey, come on now… what is it?"

Eventually he surfaces from grabbing me, sniffs up some tears and looks up.

"Mr Gold," he whimpers. "He welched on our deal. He won't tell me anything… He said I was…"

He cries again, this time in a fresh wave of fury. I settle him into my chair and see that Caroline has produced a glass of water. She hands it to him.

"There, there," she says with a kind smile, and I'm glad she's here.

Henry looks conflicted when he sees her, but he takes the glass all the same. He sips.

"He said I was crazy. He said that you thought so."

I pat his hair.

"Well you know that's not true."

He gives me a half-smile.

Caroline gathers her shopping bags. I look to her and see her usually kind features turned sharp.

"You okay?"

"No," she replies quickly. "I'm going to find out what he thinks he's playing at, frightening little boys like an ogre."

And with that she's gone, marching from the station.

"Well that's going to cause friction."

"It's okay," Henry says calmly.

I turn to him, see him drying his eyes.

"Beauty can't tame the Beast unless he does something beastly, right?"

Sometimes I'm amazed by his mind, and how his fairytales rationalise everything. He can even make sense of Gold from it, which is more than I've been able to do.

"Right," I agree.

- :: -

I enter the living room and dump my bags. A cup of tea is waiting on the table.

"Gold!"

"Just a minute!"

A few seconds pass, and I count them as they go.

"Gold!" I call again, this time louder.

He rushes in now, holding a sugar-bowl, his face a picture of concern.

"Hey now, what's this? Has someone upset you?"

"Yes."

He sets down the bowl, puts a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"Who?"

"You."

His eyebrows rise, and he leans closer to me like he wants to hear it again, just to be sure.

"What do you think you're doing, going around frightening little boys?"

Realisation dawns on his face, and he breaks into a smile.

"Oh that," he says glibly. "You know what kids are like."

"I saw him Gold, just now. He was terrified and so upset. It was horrible! You've been horrible!"

He opens his mouth to speak, but pauses at that. I fold my arms.

"Well?"

"I told you I'd do anything to protect you."

It throws me off. What could he possibly mean?

"Well I'm not sure I like the price of your kind of protection."

He nods firmly. "As you wish." His voice is cold, but sad.

He half turns to leave the room, but I catch him by the elbow.

"We are so not finished here. What do you mean?"

"You've clearly decided whose side you're on already." He wrenches his arm out of my grip. "So what's the use in me saying anything?"

He reaches for the nearest chair to steady himself, and I notice that he doesn't have his cane. I move to help without thinking, but it's too late. He misjudges the grip on the chair, and his bad leg gives way.

A sickening 'thump' goes through me as his head hits the doorframe on his way down.

I drop to his side.

"Gold? Gold are you okay? Can you speak?"

There is no answer.


	15. A warm hand over my heart

Waking to the feel of a warm hand over my heart is like nothing I've ever felt. Even in the days before I was a monster, Bae's mother had never woken me thus. I remember the argument vaguely, and I wonder if I ought to open my eyes or not.

She strokes my hair, and I decide to keep them shut. She doesn't seem angry with me whilst she thinks I'm out for the count. I suppose I ought to use this time to devise a story, some way to make her forgive me. But there will be other times to do that.

For now I lie still and let her carry on. She rests a hand on the side of my face, and I feel her lean in over me close. I can smell her shampoo.

"You're awake aren't you?" She says it with a laugh, and I feel a little safer.

I smile.

"What gave me away?"

She laughs again. "Your breathing changed just now, when I touched you."

I open my eyes. She is sitting on the edge of my bed, looking down over me with a beaming smile.

"Quick," she says, "How many fingers am I holding up?"

I take a look.

"Half of twice as many."

She gets a puzzled look in her eyes. "Well you're not concussed, but I might be."

I shuffle in the bed, but she takes me by the shoulders.

"Oh no, don't move yet, he said you shouldn't move."

"He? He who?"

"Dr Whale. I called him out to check you over. He brought you up here, said you'd be all right with some rest, but don't move your head yet."

"And he asked you to check for concussion?"

"Yup."

"You did well."

A silence falls. She puts her hand on my heart again, soothing my chest.

"You scared the life out of me there."

"Just a trip. It happens when you have an injury."

She nods.

"Look, about Henry…"

"Shhh."

She raises her hand to my lips, and I freeze.

"Don't worry about that now. I'm sure you had a reason. We'll talk about that another time."

Her hand still lingers on my lips a few moments more, then she puts it back on my chest.

"There's something else I wanted to ask you."

- :: -

I feel like now's my chance, whilst he can't sneak away. The thing with Henry can wait, because this part of the truth may well be far more important in the long term.

"I have a question, and you have to answer it this time."

"Ah."

He smiles up at me, and closes his eyes.

"I want to know what there is between us."

He stays silent for a moment, and I wonder whether to push yet or not.

"Why don't you tell me what you think, and I'll tell you if you're right or not?"

So far so good. I take in a deep breath before I begin.

"Okay, I so think we were… lovers. And we were happy. And then something terrible happened that I don't want to remember, something about you… and my father. And then I snapped, I guess, and someone put me away in the hospital, for a very long time."

Gold opens his eyes, still smiling.

"That's pretty much it."

I can feel my cheeks blushing at the confirmation, and there's a flutter of energy in my chest. He raises an arm from his side and puts it over my hand.

"Are you happy now, dear?"

I smile back at him.

"Not just yet. There's something else that's been bugging me. I've been locked away there for years. Why did it take you so long to get me out?"

"That's a good one."

He squeezes my hand, and his eyes seem paler as they widen in remembrance.

"The Mayor and your father put you away together. Regina… She…"

His eyes flutter closed.

"She told me you'd killed yourself, in the… the hospital." His grip on my hand tightens further. "And I believed her, for a long time."

The information overloads me. So, after all this time, he suddenly finds me again. No wonder he's been so awkward, so secretive about our past. He's been through as much as I have, grieved for me, all this time.

"It must have been awful for you."

I move his hand so that I can hold it properly, and with the other I stroke his arm. He stifles a quivering breath, puts his other hand over his eyes. I can see the bruises forming on his head now, and I wonder if this upset is too much for his mind.

"You should rest. I'm sorry I made you talk about it. I'll just-"

"Don't you go anywhere."

He takes his hand from his face again, and his eyes are damp here and there.

"But I've upset you."

"No."

He opens his wet eyes and smiles the toothiest grin I've ever seen. I notice how small and peculiar some of his bottom teeth are, and it makes me smile back.

"It was awful, thinking you were gone," he admits.

He takes my hand in both of his, rubbing the backs of my fingers gently.

"But can you imagine the complete and utter joy of finding out that you weren't after all?"

And I don't have to imagine it, because it's written all over his face. In his eyes. In his smile. In his touch.

I lean down towards him.

"Gold."

I purse my lips a little, close my eyes, but a single word stops me as I lean down to kiss him.

"Wait."

I open my eyes again. He's still smiling, but there's a pain behind his dark eyes that seems all too familiar. He takes his hands away from mine.

"Let me get some rest with this." He cradles the bruises on his head.

I nod slowly. I lean in again, but this time to plant a soft kiss on his forehead.

"Of course."


	16. He says he feels better

The next morning he says he feels better, and I help him downstairs to the living room. He gets settled in a chair, and I bring him some breakfast. Everything happens with smiles, but there aren't many words, and his reluctance to speak worries me. I wonder if he's embarrassed, or regretting.

"Thank you," he says when I clear away his dishes.

I come to sit beside him in the next chair, taking his hand. He looks at me with some surprise.

"What? Is this so strange?"

He squeezes my hand.

"Yes. But don't stop."

I laugh out loud. I love his wit. I think he's always been witty.

The doorbell rings.

"It'll be someone asking why the shop's not open, I bet."

"I'll go," I say, getting up.

- :: -

The door opens, and I'm surprised to see that it's Caroline. And equally surprised to find her smiling and happy.

"Oh, Emma, right."

Has she forgotten how angry she was already? Gold must have some secret charms all right.

"May I come in?"

"Of course, you need to talk to Gold."

She lets me in, and I stop to wipe my feet.

"But, please go easy on him?"

I look at her in disbelief. Gold must have some amazing secret charms.

"He had a fall last night," she explains, "He hit his head pretty hard."

I nod, and she leads me into the house proper. I find Gold sitting with a cup of tea. Caroline follows me into the room, hovering around him.

"Sheriff, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

The politeness aggravates me.

"You know damn well what."

I see the greeny-brown bruising on the side of his head now as he turns it fitfully.

"Henry," he concedes. "Regrettable. I am very sorry that I lost my temper with him."

"I'm not going to tell you what to do, Gold. If you want to frighten other little kids in your spare time, that's your business. But you stay away from Henry. Not one word to him. Ever. Got it?"

I didn't spend an afternoon mending his fragile psyche, then a whole evening on the phone to Archie reporting events for Gold to waltz in and shatter Henry to pieces again.

"I promise you, it won't happen again."

His co-operation is frustrating, which probably means he's already achieved whatever satisfaction messing with Henry's mind has got him. But at least that means I can take him for sincere now.

"Good to hear."

I make to leave, but I can't help but feel that I've walked into the end of a battle that I've already lost. I turn to Caroline with the best look of concern I can muster.

"I hope you know what you're getting into."

- :: -

Caroline comes back from closing the door after the sheriff. Her serenely happy smile is gone. Instead a worried look crosses her features. It makes me squirm in my chair.

"So… can we go back to this thing about Henry Mills?"

She sits down beside me again. I reach for her hand. After a pause, she gives it to me.

"Henry," I begin, "Is Regina's son. The kind of information he wanted from me… In her hands it would ruin this town. It could ruin us."

I hope she believes me, because it's all the truth that I can offer without risking her memories surfacing. Caroline nods slowly.

"You didn't have to do it that way…"

"I had to make sure he wouldn't come asking again."

"Don't make excuses."

I nod. Her tone disturbs me; I know that I've heard it before, in a dark little cell on a dark little day in the past.

"Carrie, I need to explain something to you."

She clutches my hand a little tighter, and it gives me hope.

"You see this massive house around us? This comfortable life?"

She nods.

"How do you think I came by all this?"

She opens her mouth, but stops.

"There are things I have to do to… keep my power around here. If I weren't a figure of fear, how many people do you think would default on their loans? How many would pay their rent on time?"

"I… I understand you need their respect."

She moves closer, kneels down beside the chair, and holds my hand firmly in hers all the while. She leans her head on the armrest.

"But do you have to be such a beast about it?"

The word on anyone else's lips makes me laugh. But on hers, it's purgatory.

"Tell you what," I say. "Let me make you a deal."

- :: -

Being so close to him, I can hardly do anything but forgive him. Trying to stand my ground is painful, when all I can do is think about rediscovering this powerful thing that we seem to have had.

"Let's hear the terms," I say, but more of me is watching his lips, feeling his hand's gentle hold.

"You let me make the calls I have to, however ruthless, to retain my power. But you can devise… how… I make them. You know, decide the approach."

"That sounds fair."

He smiles again.

"Shall I get you some more tea?"

He shifts in his seat, letting go of my hand.

"I should get it; I think I'm feeling a lot-"

"No way," I intercept. I get up and take his empty cup.

When I return with the tea, something makes me stop in the doorway. Gold is resting in the chair and has his back to me, and all I can see is his hair, and the bruised corner of his head. His skin is a strange green colour there, mottled with black and his usual pale skin colour.

And I know where I've seen that coloured skin before.


	17. A dream that feels real

"A dream that feels real is still only a dream."

"You can say it all you like dearie, but you're not waking up."

The scaly man's high voice makes me feel strange. I want to leave, the fear that demonic pitch inspires is sending shivers through every part of me. I want to know that this isn't real, that my nightmares haven't bled into my life at last. I thought I'd left all that behind when I left the underground cell.

The cell forms around me, and I see my feet are bare, and my new nightie's gone, replaced with hospital robes. The scaly man laughs suddenly, like a child's laugh.

"What if you never left?" He croons.

"I know I left."

But the cell floor is bitterly cold, just like it always was, and I feel like I can smell the scaly man's leather tunic as he steps closer. He opens his yellow eyes wide at me.

"But how can you be sure?"

He dances a little jig, and I hear his boots tap the floor. I shiver in the cold, a sickness rising in my throat.

"You're not real," I insist, but I'm not all that sure.

He steps up, takes my forearms with his hands, squeezing them hard. He shakes me and I flinch, all I see is that greeny, mottled skin in my sights.

"Do I feel real enough for you?"

He shakes me again, and I try to break away, but punching out at him just feels like treading water. His force is real, but his presence is almost ghostly.

"Can you see me?"

He grins with yellow teeth and pale eyes.

"Can you hear me?" He shouts, and the words echo round the concrete room, as they used to not so long ago.

"I'm as real as you, or Gold, or anyone out there. And you know that."

The scaly man lets me go, and I stagger back from him. I can feel my mouth open and gasping for air, feel the panic shaking through my limbs. Because he's right. I don't understand how, but he is.

He is real.

"Why can't I wake?" I ask him. "Why won't you let me?"

He hovers a little above the ground. It would be fascinating and wonderful, if he wasn't wearing that awful, evil smile.

"I'm not what's stopping you."

"Then what is?"

A moment later, a gilded mirror flies into view. The scaly man holds it steady, and I step toward it. I see only myself.

"I… I don't understand."

That laugh again. The shrill note makes me a little sick. But I look to him still.

"Of course you don't. Look harder."

I follow his words. I face myself again, see the bedraggled mess I must have been in that little cell, see the dirty gown I wore day in and out for God knows how long.

But my hair is different. I look down to my own honey-blonde strands, touch them with the ends of my fingers. But in the mirror the fingers touch nothing, for the hair is pulled up and back in curls. And it is darker. Yet everything else stays the same.

"Who is she?" Asks the scaly man, teetering on tiptoe around the mirror.

He comes to stand behind me, and I see him too in the glass, standing beside the dark haired me.

"Who, who, who, who?" He says merrily, rubbing his hands together.

"Only you know, dearie."

But he's wrong. I don't know. How could I?

"Nothing makes sense here…" I summise.

The scaly man nods, and in the blink of my eye he is gone. I turn to seek him, but all I feel is my face against a pillow damp with sweat, and my eyes open against it in a sudden panic.

I jump out of bed, see the high windows of my huge room. I spin on one foot, take in the walls, the space, the carpet. My new clothes hanging on the front of the wardrobe, a pair of slippers that I took off only hours ago.

My heart is thumping in my ears, and I sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for the panic to pass. After a while it calms, but its then that I notice how awful the silence is in the room. It seems like the scaly man could come back at any time, even here, even now.

I walk the long corridor to the west side of the house, bare feet padding on the thick carpet. I am relieved to find the door I need is already open ajar. I press the door slowly, trying not to make it creak.

Slipping into the room, I adjust to light, or lack thereof. His room is much darker than mine; the moon does not shine on these windows. Gold is sleeping soundly, and with heavy, slow breaths. The blankets are tucked under his body on one side, near the edge of the bed, but loose along the other. There is a space beside him.

The last thing I want to do is wake him, so it takes a great deal of time to get onto the mattress. I find myself thanking the years of near-starvation in the hospital that have made me so lightweight. His breathing changes for only a moment when I slip under the covers, but after a while he shuffles onto his side, still fast asleep.

My heart is quiet beside him, and I curl up under his thick blankets. I listen to his breathing, with its slow, steady, comforting rhythms, and I know the scaly man will not return to me tonight.

He wouldn't dare, not while Gold is here.


	18. A sliver of brightness hits my vision

My room is always cast in a dim light in the mornings, but today a sliver of brightness hits my vision all too early. I open one squinting eye and find the door is too far open. Light from the corridor has reached my face.

I turn over in my bed, and a shift of weight takes me by surprise.

She does not wake at the motion, simply slumbers on, her perfect face slack on its side, half-buried in the pillow.

Slowly, I raise myself beside her, sitting up to watch her sleep. The question of why she is here is of no consequence, I only care that I do not wake her, and cause this moment to have to end.

It seems absurd to me that anyone would want to punish such an angelic creation, that Regina could still want to have her locked away. Yet I did the unholy deed myself, before I realised my own blindness.

And yet there she lies.

I wish that I could shut out that travelling shard of sun, the one that will undoubtedly wake her in minutes when it finds her face as it did mine. I look at the door and supress the sigh that begs.

There was a time that I could wave my hand and it would close.

But now that time has passed, and my powers are in a place as far away as any that one could imagine. Perhaps farther.

It has come to my attention of late that my powers may never be returned to me, not so long as the curse stands. My new power, it appears, is in the fear I inspire throughout the town. My wealth and notoriety are what keep me in a comfortable state here, and my power over Regina stands not because there is magic here, but because she fears the consequences of breaking our deal.

Fear is the key.

I look at Caroline again, who is still sleeping fast. The temptation to touch her overwhelms me; I can feel the blood race to my head even to think of just stroking her hair as she lies there. But it must not be so: she will have to be the one to come to me.

The powers I possess in this realm are of my choosing, and those I once had are already long-gone. And yet the fear of losing them is latent still, beyond all my reasoning. Old habits, I suppose.

She shuffles beside me, and I feel her warm breath on my arm.

I have never understood the idea that one must give everything for the sake of love, though I have seen it done so many times. In my dealings as the Dark One, I gave many a tonic to the unhappy lover, and moved many a mountain for loved ones to come together, and each at a tremendous price. I thought them foolish.

But I would give anything to kiss her now, to secure that this moment will not be the only one she spends at my side. I know now what it means to give everything, to be willing to sacrifice, to be the fool that I so small-mindedly belittled for all those years.

I always thought women to be false, but I suppose it was a product of Bae's mother and I.

It must have been. My Belle is no false being. She may be Caroline to all intents and purposes, but in every thought and deed I see the woman I knew. She is true, and loyal to me still.

And I am underserving.

But it's not for me to judge my worth. It falls to her. And if she chooses me, I can do nothing but accept it, for every fibre of my body belongs to her now.

The void she left is healing with every moment that she lies beside me. It both reminds and absolves me of my past.

The light from the hallway finds her eyes at last.

In a brief bid for a more casual form, I try to wriggle back down into the covers, but her eyes are open before I can successfully complete the manoeuvre.

She opens her eyes, and I finish slinking back under the covers.

She laughs in a soft breath, her voice brittle in the morning silence.

"Hope you weren't watching me sleep, I bet I look awful."

I see her shining eyes, and the smile behind them just for me. Though the fear is ever-present, and the memories of my past are fresh in my mind, a stroke of unknown bravery finds me. Now is the time. She shall have what she deserved all along.

"You look beautiful."


	19. I try for a charming approach

Caroline turns her head toward the pillow a little more. The silence after my remark is palpably awkward, and the last thing I want is for her to up and leave. I try for a charming approach.

"Can I ask what brings you to my bed?"

She smiles, her face flushing a charming pink hue in the morning light.

"It was a bad dream."

"Ah."

I turn onto my side to face her, praying that the way she's shuffling closer is no mere by-product of getting comfortable.

"And did you sleep better, once you were here with me?"

"Definitely."

The rosy blush in her cheeks is comforting; it fills me with a bravery I haven't felt before. I move a little closer, my nose almost touching the edge of her pillow.

"In that case, you're always welcome in here."

She giggles. A divine sound, one that I have sorely missed in this empty house.

And then she too moves closer, eyes roving all over my face. Thoughts of power and magic run giddily through the back of my mind, it almost feels like I can be me again. The real me. But would she like it?

If she loved it before…

"Not thinking of going anywhere for a minute, were you?"

She breaks a grin that matches my own.

"Nope. I was thinking of staying exactly here."

"Pity," I say.

She pouts. "How so?"

"I rather thought you'd have liked to be closer."

- :: -

It feels like I've waited longer than my lifetime for this moment.

The mischievous glint in his eye is new, and not unwelcome. It feels as familiar as the shine of his hair and his crooked smile.

I move to the edge of my pillow, and we are so close I can feel the covers rustle as he breathes.

"L-like this?" When I try to speak, the words are cracked and full of nerves. So much for trying to achieve romantic confidence.

A warm hand slides up onto my shoulder. I guess he has enough confidence for us both right now. He guides me closer, his eyes flutter closed. But I keep mine open to the very last moment, to see his face, and that wicked smile.

And for the first few moments the kiss is divine. His lips are softer than I thought they'd be, and I can feel how happy he is, it's like he's smiling even though the kiss.

But the thing that really strikes me when our lips meet is the energy. I've never felt anything like the power radiating from behind his mouth, the hunger, the need. And then it's more than that. There's something foreign and wonderful at the same time, and I can't quite decide that it feels right. But there's no way on Earth that I can stop.

Until the room around us begins to shake.

Pictures come crashing off the walls, shattering glass onto the floor. A horrifying rumble fills the house and I can hear things crashing in the distance.

Gold leaps out of the bed, rushing across haphazardly for his cane, then back for my hand.

"Downstairs!"

He pulls at my arm.

"There's broken glass!"

"Downstairs!" He shouts again, yanks me up with full force. "We need a solid structure to hide in."

The quake rages on as we crash down the stairs. He falls at the bottom and I help him back up, and we race to the concrete larder at the back of the house. The ripples of the shockwave get bigger, and though the whole thing has been less than ninety seconds, the damage all around us is alarming. A rapid glance at the kitchen shows crockery shattered everywhere, evidenced by a shard of a teacup that lodges itself in my foot as we pass.

Wincing and crying, Gold pulls me into the larder and shuts the wooden door, bracing me by the back wall.

I hold onto him, and the house shakes and shakes. A crash somewhere outside suggests that something huge has fallen. The burglar alarm starts to sound.

And then it's over.

And though the house isn't shaking there's a weird feeling in my body, like the shiver you get when you dismount from riding a really fast horse. The tremor's within me for a moment.

Gold looks like he's feeling it too. His head is hanging down and he breathes quickly and fiercely. He splutters out a cry, and it looks like the fall might have given him some pain. I reach for his chin, tilting his head up towards me.

And I gasp.

His eyes are glossed over, coloured in a pale, icy blue, like he's been blinded or they've frozen. The hand I have on his chin is full of odd vibrations. And he's still wearing that strange smile, like it's stuck in its place.

Then it all drops away, and the colour comes back to his eyes. He gasps for breath, looking me and up and down like he doesn't remember a thing.

"You're... you're okay aren't you? You're not hurt?"

He looks at me helplessly, panting.

And I run.

I push past him and out of the larder, the chink of china in my foot dragging its way free with a sickening squelch. I try to ignore it and run on, run through the destroyed kitchen and to the front door.

He caused the quake.

I don't know how I know it, but he did. Some power took hold of him, and for a moment it had me too. The look in his eyes, that frozen face, the sensation around us that I can only describe as magic. I can hear him calling from the doorway, but I don't stop.

I can't stop, not until this makes sense.


	20. Thanks for the sweats

"Thanks for the sweats."

Emma looks at me with half a smile and half a look of serious concern.

"No worries. Your nightie didn't really fit in with the décor here."

I look around the sheriff's station at the holsters and jackets and boots.

"There is a lot of leather."

Emma hits the desk with her hand. "Let me take a look at that foot again."

I slip off a borrowed sock and unwrap the makeshift bandage over the sole of my foot. I lift it up onto the table, and Emma closes in, frowning.

"Stopped bleeding…" She says absently.

"That's good, isn't it?" I ask, a trifle confused.

"Well sure, but…" She stops again there, and looks hard at my foot again. "But you took a neat little chunk out here. Should have cut a few dozen vessels I'm sure. But it's stopped already."

I drop the injured appendage from the table and start wrapping it back up for padding.

"Guess I'm a good healer."

"Seems so. Is Gold okay?"

I pause at that. I hadn't even thought, the panic coursing through me has only ebbed since Emma produced a hot cup of coffee and some warm clothing.

"Yeah, he wasn't hurt."

Emma looks at me suspiciously over the top of her coffee mug.

"Won't he be worried about you?"

I know the answer, but it doesn't feel good to admit as much.

"Well sure, but you… you have to understand people freaking out about these things… don't you?" The last part is with a hopeful edge. Emma smiles at it in a comforting way.

"Of course. That quake was seriously scary."

I contemplate the words. It would sound crazy to tell her just how scary.

It sounds crazy to me too. But I know that Gold had something to do with the earthquake, I feel it somewhere in the very back of my mind, in a place I can't quite get to. That little something that was wrong that I felt in the kiss, the strange energy emanating from him, the frosted, dead eyes that consumed his face afterwards… like he was possessed by something else. Someone else.

I try to shake the thoughts out of my head. I feel Emma put a hand on my arm and give a brief pat.

"I don't think it'll happen again though."

"I'm hoping so too," I say.

A silence falls between us, broken only by a misdirected phone call. A tree has landed in someone's kitchen after the quake. Emma redirects them to the fire service.

- :: -

"Can you tell me some stuff about Gold?"

The question comes out of thin air. Caroline doesn't look at me after she's asked it, only watches her fingernails edgily. I set down my coffee.

"Stuff like what?"

She squirms in her seat.

"The other day… you said I ought to be careful. I'm starting to wonder what you meant exactly."

"Oh that."

I'm not sure if I'd hoped that this day would come, but telling Caroline the truth does seem like the sheriffly thing to do.

"Well he's not the nicest guy in town, for starters."

"Okay," she says, her face a picture of seriousness.

"He owns half the town, and most of the people in it. There's not many people round here that seem to go against him. And if you fail to meet his terms, well, he's not afraid of hurting people."

Caroline's eyes narrow.

"His terms?" She asks.

I nod. "He's a legal kind of guy. Loans, tenancies, contracts. Antiques is just the side-line. I figure he's really making his money from all the desperate people in town who need his cash but can't really afford the repayments. He repossessed your dad's whole business a few days before we found you. And…"

I pause there, watching her interested expression.

"Yes?" She says, blue eyes wide with curiosity.

"Well, Gold assaulted him. Your father. Pretty seriously."

She just nods at that. "I thought as much. Nothing less than he deserves."

It surprises me, but then I remember that she clocked old Moe one herself a few days ago. Maybe there's something I don't know about there, and I'm not sure I want to get into it.

"I guess what I'm saying," I add, attempting a swift topic change, "Is be careful with him. I'm sure he'll be great to you when you're great to him. But if you have any kind of agreement with him, I'd be careful not to break it."

Caroline's face seems much more coherent than before, like she's working out some enormous puzzle as I speak. Her usually timid features seem bolder, more defined. Her eyes are steely with concentration.

"So you're saying that he's ruthless?" She asks.

"Yup."

"And he's… dangerous?"

I shrug. "It's possible."

"And he makes deals with people?"

"Oh yeah. He's a big deal-maker. Everyone in town seems to be in his power."

"Right."

Caroline stands, straightening out the sweat top I lent her. I watch her test out her injured foot, upon which she then stands as if it had never been hurt at all.

"Are you okay?"

She looks down at me, and everything feels a little stranger.

"Thank you… for the coffee. I have to go home now, check on Gold."

Her face is too serious, like she's in on something that I don't know about.

"Like you said… he'll be worried about me."

And with that she's leaving, with socks and no shoes, striding from the office like a woman possessed.


	21. I sit amongst the wreckage

_Hello gentle readers._

_I am so very sorry that this update has been a long time coming. It was a bad week from last Monday, as my boyfriend was taken in hospital. Thankfully all is well now, but it's been a hard time these last ten days. That said, I'm here now with the next chapter and I hope to complete the drafts of the remaining four chapters and have your story finished this week to thank you for your patience!_

_Yours,_

_Humble Quill_

* * *

><p>As the fire service removes the tree from my kitchen, I sit amongst the wreckage of crockery and leaves, searching for pieces of the teacup.<p>

Those I have form the handle, and one is the circular base. After a few more minutes of foraging and several strange looks from the firemen, I have almost all the pieces in my hands. I gather what I have to make my way into the living room, where a bottle of glue sits waiting.

And as I go I see it in the doorway.

The piece with the chip, caked in Caroline's blood.

Depositing the other pieces safely on the coffee table, I return with this one to the sink. The water is still running despite the effects of the earthquake. As I wash the little shard of china, reminders of the shudders return to me.

No wonder she ran – the quake was quite remarkable – and all-too-real to be standing so close to its epicentre.

My powers are gone for good.

Though I couldn't have told you that I had them beforehand, I know now that I did, and they no longer reside in this body. A frailty has taken me today that I haven't felt in a long time, a loss of strength that I hope will not be lasting.

The china is finely veined, and though I can rinse most of the blood from its surface, some small spectre of it lingers, colouring patches of it with a rusty red hue. Eventually I concede that this cannot be remedied, returning the chipped piece to its brethren.

And so to the task.

I begin to glue from the base-up, portion by portion, edge to edge. The tectonics of it soothe me, quelling the impatient soul within me that wonders where Belle is.

I know that she will be somewhere safe; no doubt the emergency services will be pounding the pavements all over town looking for people to help. I hope that she has sought treatment for her wound. And I must content myself that she will return, if only because her things are upstairs.

When the rounded bowl of the teacup is complete, I begin the barbarous task of reattaching its handle, trying to avoid the oozes of glue that seek out my fingertips.

Of all the things to happen in a kiss.

Not that I think for a second that she will connect the two. No-one of this age would even consider it.

But I hope it hasn't frightened her off, just when things seem to have taken a turn for the better. Just when her sweet lips have lingered too long on mine, and I can hardly help but stick my hand to the teacup as I lose myself in the brief memory.

"We got the tree out, Mr Gold."

I turn my head to the burly oaf approaching me.

"Thank you Douglas."

"You want me to call you a window guy?"

I nod. "I'd be much obliged."

He skulks off, leaving me to prise my fingers off the cup. Once the meagre repairs are completed, I shelve the cup inside a cupboard from which a hundred books have spilt. I look around the room at the scattered objects and fallen paintings, and accept that this situation deserves a genuine sigh.

"We've got a lot of cleaning up to do."

At first the tracksuit confuses me, not least because it does not come with shoes, but her face seems to make even the most absurd circumstances seem in balance. Caroline crosses the room carefully, besocked feet ambling to find me.

"Your foot… it's…"

"Okay," she completes. "It's actually healing, it's… not as bad as it seemed."

I just nod. She looks at me inquiringly.

"And… are you okay?"

"Just got a little… freaked out by the shaking."

Her voice is level, but her eyes are still deeply focused on me. She takes my hair in her fingertips, then lets her hand fall to graze my neck.

"I'm calm again now."

I'm not. The feel of her skin on mine renews my strength, takes away the numbing loss of power I have felt in the hour that she's been missing from my side. The touch becomes more confident, more deliberate as her fingers slip to the nape of my neck, down into my collar an inch.

"Just need to do something, before we start clearing up."

"Right…" I say, but I'm loathe to admit I have no idea what's happening.

And then she grins, just like she did not so long ago. Her eyes still seem to be searching, but her mouth is wide and full of amusement.

"Kiss me again."

I can't be sure if she asked it, or if I just heard it from inside my head.

"I don't suppose you could say that once more."

I watch her lips form the words this time.

"Kiss. Me. Again."

She steps into my arms, lets me drink in her beautiful face for a lingering moment. Then she moves in, the faintest hint of rich coffee about her, her hair falling in perfect lines around her cheeks.

"I shan't need telling twice again."

This time there is nothing but her divinity, and there is no greater power to shake the ground beneath us. She relaxes into my lips, and I feel her smiling as we part.

"Right," she says, looking around at the mess. "Well that's sorted, shall we start in here?"

"Yes, I think so," I reply, taking her waist so she can't walk off to pick anything up.

She smiles at me, wrapping her arms around my neck and shoulders.

"There's just something else we need to do first."

Moments later I can feel the footsteps of the hefty fire-fighter Douglas returning to the room, then leaving again almost as quickly. I would thank him for not disturbing us, but I imagine that my lips will be busy for quite some time.


	22. A strange pride

Walking down the streets of Storybrooke has often filled me with a strange pride. I have wielded my notoriety happily, wandered wherever I pleased, always met by fear and respect. But nothing before has swelled me so much as to walk with her.

Caroline smiles Belle's smile at me so perfectly that I've taken to not calling her by name in case I get it wrong. She walks slowly, in step with me and my cane, her hand linked lazily onto my arm as though it has always been there. The weather has been beautiful since the quake, and the crisp air refreshes me as we head through the park.

I question whether I really needed my powers here at all. I am still receiving that look of fear whenever I meet someone who knows of my dealings. It seems that, magic or no magic, my position in this little town is firmly stuck.

"I like these roses," Caroline says, her free arm flowing to a bunch of manicured red roses at the edge of the park gates.

We stop at the blooms. The irony is not lost on me, quite the opposite in fact. I enjoy the way her old persona leaks so freely into the new.

"I could fix you some up kid, if you like them."

The voice is like a wasp passing my ear, the urge to swat irreversible.

Moe French comes to stand beside us, worrying the soles of his shoes as he rubs his feet awkwardly against the ground.

I turn to Caroline, expecting perhaps nerves or fear, but she just carries on looking at the roses.

"Father," she acknowledges, her voice suddenly joyless.

"Things have been said… between all three of us," he begins, hands fumbling in his pockets. "And things have been done."

The bruising on his neck from my beating has not yet healed, and I can see a pink ring around his eye that looks as though something else is healing. I think back to Regina's attempts to arrest my Belle, and suppress a smile. She got him good and proper.

"But I'm not the Mayor's lap-dog any more, if that's any consolation."

"Good for you," I reply, then I look back to Caroline once more. Her face is totally plain, yet absolutely brimming with feeling.

"This is small town," he continues, apparently mistaking my flippancy for genuine congratulations. "So I'd like to patch things up as best we can."

"Patch things up?" Caroline turns her eyes from the roses. "You don't get to call me deranged like my mother one minute, try to lock me back up in my room the next, threaten me with going back to that hospital because you don't want some nutter under your roof, then just go back to daddy-daughter like none of this happened."

She is shaking, but not teary, and I slip my hand into her. She takes it fiercely, and I feel the tension in her grip.

French senior just stands there staring, aghast perhaps that she has revealed their argument to me. I suppose she would have told me at some point anyway, but it hadn't felt right to ask.

"Goodbye Mr French," she states categorically.

And then she leads me away at a faster pace than my cane allows. I manage to keep step, and she slows when we are further from the park and back on the main street. She huffs out a breath, and looks at me as we walk more slowly, still clutching my hand.

"I did the right thing there?" She asks, watching my face carefully. "He's been awful to me?"

I nod.

"More than you know."

There is a curious glimmer in her eyes when I say that, as though she has something on the tip of her tongue. But then she breaks from my eyes as we cross the road, and I realise we are headed for the diner. I am not ordinarily seen in the diner.

"Are you hungry?" I ask as the building comes nearer.

"No. That trash about patching up reminded me of something."

I see through the window now, to what, or rather whom, we are headed.

"I really don't think-"

I begin the sentence, but we stop in the doorway, and she gives me a reproachful look.

"You made a deal with me, Mister Gold," she reminds. "I'm the boss of your attitude now. And we're going retroactive."

I had felt this moment might be approaching, but it had been far from my mind amidst the inordinate amount of time I have spent attached to her lips in the last twenty-four hours. We enter Granny's with a creak of the door.

The sheriff sits with her son at the counter, both smouldering moodily over equally-sized hot chocolate mugs. She lifts her head when we enter, then drops it again, says something to the boy. Henry takes a sharp look at me too, but only for a moment.

I feel Caroline give my hand a light squeeze.

"Go on," she says. "Do your thing."

Having her back is all I have ever asked for. Keeping her, I now realise, will be a task in itself. Fortunately, I have little else to do with my time, and little else I want to do with it. I approach the breakfast counter.

"Good morning Sheriff, Henry."

Caroline comes to stand behind me, and Emma gives her a questioning look over my shoulder. Henry shies into his mother's side, even pulls his hot chocolate away from me a little.

"I came to say sorry to you Henry."

Whatever Emma had been about to say dies on her lips.

"I talked to Caroline about it, and I'm sorry I frightened you."

Henry now too looks up at Caroline. She puts her hand on my shoulder and I can feel a kind of pride radiating from her behind me. The boy nods to himself.

"We're okay then," he confirms.

He holds out a small hand to me. I take it with a short shake.

"Does this mean you're going to be a prince from now on?" Henry asks.

Emma rolls her eyes behind Henry's head.

But Caroline steps in. "Oh he's not there yet. Long way to go. Very long."

She giggles, and so does Henry. In the same moment Emma squares her face at mine, and gives me a small nod.


	23. A dozen red roses arrive at the door

The evening after our jaunt into town is much the same as ever. Except for the moment when a dozen red roses arrive at the door. Caroline takes them sceptically at first, and I realise she must dread the thought that they are from her father. But when she reads the card amongst them, she turns to me, delighted.

She sets the roses down on the nearest table.

"You don't want to put them in water?"

"Later," she says, and takes me by the collar of my shirt.

She kisses me deeply, the way I have become so accustomed to in such a short space of time, and I find that we are stumbling gently to the stairs. I break off the kiss for breath and she ascends, looking back at me. There is nothing but to obey her eyes.

We reach my bedroom and she drops herself onto my bed, all shining eyes and bright smiles. I could almost just stand and watch her lie there so elated. But I know that it's not what she wants.

Careful to keep the bad leg in the right place, I climb onto the bed, aiming to lie at her side. With a swift moves she changes my aim, wriggles herself under me on one side. She laughs, pulling me in for a kiss.

The card in the roses was a bold move on my part, but apparently worth every agonising moment of deciding what to write. I will relive her eyes reading the words "I adore you" over and over.

I can feel her toying with the tight collar of my shirt as we kiss, and remove her hands from my neck to loosen it myself. She helps me off with my tie after that, hardly breaking our lips for a moment, and I hear the silk flop to the floor. I feel her at my buttons, bringing the shirt off my chest bit by bit. All the while I feel her sweet lips inviting me, her half-laughing breaths between frantic kisses.

And after a moment she changes tack and finds my neck with those lips and I freeze, half-lying on and half-leaning over her. A bliss that I have never before felt courses in my veins, and it's worth all the magic in the world. I wrench my neck away reluctantly to look down at her, to see my beauty smiling back at me.

She gasps for breath happily, toying with the sparse hairs on my chest before her hands vie for the rest of the shirt to come off. I watch her at play, and it's all I've ever wanted.

Belle. Mine at last.

"I've wanted to do this so badly… even from when we first met, if I'm honest. Weird feeling at the time."

She looks up at me then, grinning.

"But glad about it now, for sure."

The shirt comes down my arms, leaving bare skin that she kisses. But my body's arrested over her, and suddenly things aren't quite as they seem.

Because she's not Belle. Not really.

"Caroline."

She pauses her passion, sensing the tone in my voice.

"What Gold? What's wrong?"

And I cannot help the word as it comes tumbling.

"Everything."

She frowns, her blue eyes sharp suddenly.

The helplessness I felt when my powers left is back, and I push myself up on the bed. She tries to pull me closer, but I sit back, just looking at her.

It isn't real.

"I've lied to you. And I can't do this, not on a lie."

It's all I can manage to say.

Her brow furrows, and she seems more focused on what my words mean than actually hurt by them. But she does not smile it off, as she has so many other things.

"How?"

And now I see the trap I've fallen into, because I cannot say. She would never believe it, and the return of her memories is unlikely, now that the magic I once had has dissipated forever.

"I can't."

She seems to pause for thought.

- :: -

"Is it a big lie?" I ask him, now straightening up on the bed.

Gold looks away, his eyes so strained he could bore a hole in the floor.

"Massive," he admits.

And in a flash he is gone, his shirt falling off completely as he bolts from the room. I hear him limp down the stairs, and I pick up his silk tie from the floor, running it through my fingers.

And I smile to myself.

Things are just as they should be.


	24. I feel exposed from every angle

It's cold in the kitchen with no shirt. I feel exposed from every angle now, now that I have done the unthinkable, and turned her away. I felt myself capable of many unspeakable things in the land of my birth, when my powers were at their height. Rage, fury, vengeance, murder, thievery, treason of the highest order.

But contrition? Guilt? Regret?

These had never worked their way into that plan. Not until she came to my castle, and changed me for good.

In my hands I hold the repaired cup, the china that led me to quest out Caroline just a few short weeks ago. How that time has flown, so much has occurred. Here and there, moments of happiness flash into my mind.

The moment she saw me, pawing my face in a half-remembered dreamstate. She knew me, trusted me, even then.

How she always leant close, those mornings in the kitchen, took every chance to be beside me. So close I could smell the rose scent in her hair.

The way she shuffled closer under the covers in the harsh morning light. Testing me. Silently willing me nearer.

How everything changed after that kiss that caused the quake, when my powers deserted me for good. How she ran in a panic, barefoot and bleeding, scared for herself. Scared of me.

And yet she returned.

Whatever happened to her in those few short hours she was missing; it made her return to me. And that has happened once before, in a time she will never remember. And somehow I've managed to be the one who ruins so triumphant a return. Again.

I turn the cup over in my hands, finding the part where some dried blood has found its way into the veins of the china. I know now that this cup is void of power, that no attempt at repair can replace what is lost. But I cannot let it go. It is all I feel deserving of.

- :: -

I give him some time to think before I begin to descend the stairs. Silently, bare feet padding on the carpet, then onto the wood of each step, making sure to avoid the one that creaks on the way down.

I put my head around the doorway of the living room, but he is not here. I fear for a moment that he may have left the house, deserted me for the night. But then there was no click of a key in a lock. No heavy front door closing.

I pad through the living room in the dark, and the next room is the kitchen. He sits with his back to me, bare skin hitting the moonlight streaming through the only unbroken window. The others are boarded for now, from the damage of the quake. His head is thrown into shadow.

I stand in the doorway between the two rooms, breath catching in my throat as I struggle with whether I ought to disturb him. His thoughts must be agony.

But he has done what was needed.

And now he should have his reward.

The wind picks up outside the boarded windows, and the wood rattles against its holding. The noise masks my feet crossing onto the tiled floor of the kitchen. I cross the room on the moonlit side, seeing that his face is turned down away from me.

He looks into his hands, does not see the shadow I have cast behind him.

Gold holds a teacup that has been smashed and repaired. I see the cracks in it shadowed by the moonlight. It has been repaired well. I should say that it'd hold tea still, if I was to try to fill it.

The wind dies down, and I feel my own breath has grown louder in the interim.

Startled, Gold turns and sees me, his own chest rising in a panicked breath for a moment. He looks hastily down at the little teacup, then around him, looking for somewhere to discard it. Presumably this is before I can get a good look.

I step forward into the moonlight proper. Crouch down beside him, take his hands, and the cup, and put my hands around them both.

"It's okay, you don't have to hide it."

He looks at me, eyes narrowing in concentration. Trying to work me out.

I just smile; how I love to see his mind working through his dark eyes.

"I'm glad you kept it, Rumpelstiltskin."


	25. Rumpelstiltskin

Rumpelstiltskin.

She leads me up the familiar path back to the bedroom; I watch my feet going, keep my eyes rooted to the ground. A thousand questions threaten to envelop my senses, bursting at the back of my mind. I can feel her hand in mine as she leads me like a child that's been sleepwalking.

Rumpelstiltskin.

When we reach the dark bedroom, Belle puts on a light. I stand and watch with a drooped head, chancing looks under my brow to see her. After she's adjusted the covers, she takes my hand again, makes me sit in with my back against the headboard. Tucks a blanket around me. Touches my bare shoulder.

"Must have been cold down there with the windows out."

I think she's been talking for a while, but I only hear this last attempt. Her hand lingers, warm on my cold skin. And yet I'm sure that I'm sweating a little.

Rumpelstiltskin.

"It's warmer in here."

I manage the phrase, but it sounds a mile away, as though the voice was not mine. Perhaps it isn't. But then I'm sure I said it. And I'm sure she said my name.

Rumpelstiltskin.

The questions start to filter through the shock in my mind. I'm not sure I can take the answers yet, but they need asking nonetheless.

"How long have you known?"

"It was just after the earthquake. It was Emma, actually, that helped me to remember."

This strange news affects me despite my mind reeling. I find Belle's face; she is looking down at my chest, her hand still lingering on my shoulder.

"I'd been having these dreams… about you."

I feel a lump rise into my throat.

"Your nightmares," I add as realisation dawns.

She nods.

"After the quake there were flashes of the same things, but in daytime, whilst I was awake. I went to Emma for help… for a distraction I guess."

It is my turn to nod. She finds my face, meets my eyes, and I know that the shock must be showing. She suddenly takes my face into her hands, soothing my chin with her fingertips.

"She doesn't know anything. Emma. She was just telling me what she knows about you here, how you are with people… the deals you make."

She kisses my forehead, and I let out a long breath.

"And something… just clicked?" I ask.

"Yes… and no," is the reply. "For a minute there I was just myself. I mean Belle. Who I really am. And all I wanted to do was get back to you, and to kiss you again."

I reach a hand up to her hand, push it closer against my jaw. She responds gently.

"To-?"

"Yeah," she interrupts. "Because I knew how you'd caused the quake then. Your magic got loose."

I consider this. There is silence for a moment. Things begin to clear again in my mind, and it feels like it used to in the castle, when I would tell a story of mine, then she would tell one of hers. I wonder if she remembers all of that too.

"And then Caroline's memories came back again, and it was all very confusing. Trying to keep the lives separate; the memories of me here, and me then, and you here, and you then. I don't know how you cope with it."

Finally, there is something I can answer surely.

"It gets easier the longer you live here."

Belle nods. "I'll trust you on that one."

Another questions bubbles its way to the surface, and I can't believe I haven't already asked it.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

And now she smiles, and things feel a little better.

"You were having fun pretending to be someone else. Thought I'd give it a try."

I smile back a little, but something stops me. I look down at the blankets around me.

"It wasn't fun." Her hand drops away from my face. "Not really."

"I realise that now. That's why I've told you."

I just nod. There's a strange kind of jealousy welling in me, that she has been allowed to forget me for so long. And now, as if waking from an unkind nightmare, she finds me here alive and well and so completely in love with her that even a twinge of my usual deceptive ways repulses me. She has stripped me bare. Seen my soul. And worst of all, she knew that she was doing it.

When I look up at her she is smiling at me, and her eyes are lined with water. And the bitterness evaporates.

Perhaps it was what I needed.

"I just," I begin, but find my voice is cracked, another lump catching my throat. But I want to say the words that beg on my tongue. "I-" I begin again, and this time my eyes give me away, as though they have caught the idea to water from hers.

And she saves me the shame, because she kisses me again. My face is wet when we break, and I've no idea if the tears were hers or mine. But now it doesn't matter.

"I really thought I'd lost you."

The words rush out in a single breath.

Belle shakes her head at me. "That's not the Rumpelstiltskin I remember," she says in a bright tone. She wipes the last tear from her face, beaming a smile of pure sunshine. "The spinner I knew would know that a thing once lost, can always be found."

I don't have to work for the smile to be returned this time.

"I think he does now."

She nods at me again, and I can feel her holding back that giggle she does. She is so very happy. So happy that it radiates into me, gives me an energy that mixes with my shocked system, turning me all to nerves and impulse.

I take her waist and pull her towards me, and she lets out the withheld laugh like a bolt of electricity. She climbs into the bed and I lay myself down with her, wrapping her in my arms where she burrows against my skin.

"So…" she says, starting to plant little kisses on my chest. "Can we go back to the part where your clothes were coming off?"

I look down at her, letting out a happy and disbelieving sigh.

- :: -

"Too soon?" I ask, feeling that perhaps he isn't quite over his revelation yet.

But the surprise in his eyes fades, leaves them darker and happier than before. He leads my face up to his and this time the kiss is all his. Power and joy and need tremble on my lips. Then he looks beyond me into the dark corridor that we came from.

"No," he says simply. "But we'd better close that door." Something mischievous flashes in his eyes. "Don't want you getting cold."

I laugh, but it falls away. There is something else. And I know he won't forgive me for keeping secrets twice. It has to be out there now, the whole truth.

"Allow me," I say.

And with a wave of my hand, the door closes.

He sits up in the bed, but still holds me close. He looks at the door. Then at me.

"Don't ask me how it happened," I say before he can speak. "Because you're the one who's supposed to know how magic works. All I know is that I traced the feelings back, and it happened when I stepped on our cup and shattered it."

He huffs out a breath, but it doesn't seem angry.

"I knew it was holding magic," he muses. "I didn't even suppose that it might be mine."

A quiet moment passes, and I wonder once again if things can ever settle between us. And then he lies back down, and takes me down with him. I resume my place on his chest, feel him stroking my hair.

"It was the best place to conceal my powers from me," he says after what seems like an eon.

"How so?"

"Because I never would have smashed it to reclaim them. Even if I'd known."

A warmth spreads into my heart, and I can feel his smile against my forehead.

"I'm going to have to show you how to use them." He says.

I shuffle to see his face, and find nothing but serenity in his expression.

"We have all the time we need."

He manoeuvres to kiss me, another deep kiss, with all the longing I could ever have hoped for. When we break for breath, his eyes glitter like the madman I first met.

"Now dearie, were you still thinking of getting my clothes off?"

THE END

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><p><em>Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this fic, and those who have reviewed it have my eternal love. Please stay tuned for more Mr Gold centric fiction in the near future, don't forget to add me to your author alerts!<em>

_Lots of love,_

_Humble Quill_


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